Gemma
by Lioness-Elf
Summary: CHAP. 8! After her introduction to the city of Frell, Gemma unveiles a mysterious power win herself that is linked to Queen Eleanor's past and to her father's murder: a power that she must use in order to protect a fierce princess from a cold-hearted, pow
1. Chapter One

**Hey! Okies, first story on fanfiction - v. long chappie and sorta long winded parts, but I promise you'll like it. Okies, read and enjoy! **

Madeline shrieked as her older cousin grabbed her by the back of the neck, shoving her into the lake with a loud guffaw. The 13-year-old girl stood up in the water, thigh deep, her pretty face forming an angry pout.

"Gemma, what'd you do that for, huh?" she cried, running to her cousin and shoving her towards the muddy part of the lake. "You deserve what's coming next, Gem!"

Madeline was on the verge of hurling her 15-year- old playmate into the dirty water when she froze, her hand going stiff on the collar of Gemma's nightdress. What had begun as a morning swim in nightgowns had quickly turned into a water battle between the two cousins. Now, Madeline seemed to have forgotten about continuing the fun.

"Gem, it's them!" she whispered urgently, nodding towards the far side of the lake. Her hand squeezed Gemma's wrist so tightly that Gemma squeaked and jerked free of her cousin's abominable strength. "What in the name of... aha, I see!" Smiling mockingly, Gemma linked her arm through Madeline's. "What's wrong with them? They seem like fine, young gentlemen, don't you think?"

Maddy threw her a dirty look. "Gem, I never know what to say to them!" she whispered, near a panic. "They always smile at me, and I have no idea how to – "

Two things interrupted Mattie – Ingrid's shout from the cottage, and a call from one of the boys from the far side of the shore. Avoiding Madeline's panic-filled glance, Gemma lifted the hem of her sopping nightdress and began to walk from the shore towards her Aunt's call.

"Where do you think you're going?" Madeline hissed in her direction, eyes wide. Gemma burst out laughing. "Just be your usual, charming, sweet self, and every last one of them will fall at your feet!" With that, she turned and ran up the shore, still laughing.

Her aunt's cottage, also known as Gemma's and Madeline's residence, was located on a grassy piece of land encased by Willows, in sight from the shore of Lake Delran. Running across the grass at a steady pace, Gemma neared her aunt, suddenly noticing the strained expression on Ingrid's face. Slightly out of breath, she came to a stop before her aunt.

"Is there something wrong, Grids?" I panted, blowing a wisp of dark brown hair from my gold flecked, hazel eyes. My aunt stood still, frowning at my appearance – something Ingrid usually never bothered to do. I fidgeted under my aunt's surveying glances. What was going on? At last, Ingrid sighed, twisting her hands together.

"We have a visitor, Gemma", she voiced. Her voice was barely calm – I could tell she was having difficulty containing her nervousness. "A visitor? What of it?" My aunt's mood was irritating me. Why couldn't Ingrid just spit out what was bothering her?

"Follow me, Gem. It's a man; he claims to be from Frell." I arched an eyebrow. Why would someone ride all the way from Frell to see me? Ingrid I could imagine – she was beautiful, charming, and had suitors by the barrelful – but me? I was an uncontrollable orphan, who despised her father and had mourned her mother's death over four years ago. Why would a man of the capital wish to speak with me?

In the kitchen, Ingrid handed me one of her garments – a bright green one, to match my eyes. I had never worn one of her dresses before, and found it odd that I should start now. Nevertheless, I slipped it over my head after removing my nightgown, and entered the tiny sitting room.

A tall, thin man was sitting on one of the couches, looking at his surroundings with an odd expression on his face. I took it that he wasn't used to seeing the simple furniture around. A pair of glasses were perched on the tip of his nose, something I thought looked very funny. I bit my lip, hard. He stood as I entered, holding out his hand. I shook it, as I did with the hands of the boys Madeline and I spent our days with. He looked very surprised, and pulled his hand away.

"Good day, Lady Gemma of Delran", he voiced softly. I was taken aback. How could such a tall man have such a soft voice? I looked into his eyes, and what I saw there was sympathy – though I couldn't understand why. I was well off and happy – why would he pity me? He cleared his throat. "Perhaps you should sit down, Lady Gemma", he suggested slowly. "I'm afraid I bear sad tidings for you."

I frowned, slowly sinking onto the second couch. The man was calling me 'Lady' – something no one had ever done before. I was no lady. He was silent, opening and closing his mouth several times. I fidgeted. "Yes?" I couldn't help prompting. "It's about your father, Lady", the man told me haltingly.

My jaw dropped slightly; I couldn't have been more surprised. The tips of my fingers felt icy; my cheekbones felt flush. When I spoke, my voice was high and thin. "Whatever news you have of him, I'm not interested", I informed the man. "My father and I... lost touch years ago."

Father had deserted the family when I was eleven and mother was ill. He had left her to die – not only of disease, but also of grief. I remembered stepping from the cottage one morning to find his carriage rattling away. He had looked at me through the back window of the carriage, his face unreadable. The carriage had begun to pick up speed. He'd wanted to be rid of us, and certainly didn't want a confused eleven year old chasing him – even if that eleven year old had been his own daughter. Now, remembering this all too vividly, I glared at the man, rising to my full height. This wasn't very impressive – with my five feet five inches, I came scarcely up to his shoulder. "I want nothing to do with him."

The man didn't seem to understand. He made no move to leave. What was wrong with this person? Hadn't he heard me?  
"Excuse me", I tried again. "Please leave. No one here is interested in – " "Lady Gemma", he interrupted. "Your father... was killed."

_That night...  
_  
I'd never had confused feelings before, except for the time of father's departure. I'd remembered all the happy times we'd spent together – swimming in the lake, toying in the grass, watching a deer emerge from the dusk or a ferret climb a tree to greet the sunrise. I hadn't understood his departure – I'd thought he loved his family.

Now, I was confused once again. I had hated father for leaving mother to her illness, but the news of his death brought back so many memories. It's completely overwhelming; I thought that night, lying in the bed that Mattie and I shared. The rhythmic breathing of my cousin beside me let my thoughts drift.

_Flashback..._  
  
That afternoon, after the man had left, I'd remembered bits and pieces of father – all memories I'd locked away with mother's death. I'd remembered being spun around in circles by his strong arms, the time he'd fished me out of the lake after I'd fallen into the water off a tree branch, the evenings he'd spent telling me old stories of Kyrria and Ayortha... and yet, I was supposed to hate him, wasn't I? So why had his death affected me this way? I also couldn't forget what the man had told me after the news of father's death. "You're father was the owner of a vast estate in the capital, Lady", he had begun. "I have his will on me, and – it seems that he's left his entire estate to you." I gaped at him, looking like a complete idiot – but I couldn't help myself. "Me?" I rasped, completely in shock. He gave me an odd look. "You are the Lady Gemma, are you not?" "Of course, but – well, my father... my father and I..." I trailed off pathetically, not knowing what to say. After several minuets, when I was relatively composed, I said, "I don't know how to manage an estate. I don't even know what the house looks like, I've never even been there – I haven't seen my father in four years! There has to be some mistake", I continued rapidly, "Some...misunderstanding. Surely he meant someone else, some friend of his by the same name..." "You're father clearly specified that the lady he was leaving his possessions to was his daughter Gemma", the man cut in smoothly. I sank back down onto the couch, leaning into the pillows. I felt deflated. "As for the management of the estate", he continued formally, "We will find someone capable of managing the place for the time being. You can, of course, bring your aunt and cousin with you." My deflation was instantly forgotten. I sprang up, feeling like a wild woman.  
"I have to move there?" It wasn't a shout; it was a shriek. "I don't want his estate, or any of his things! Give them to someone else, do you hear me?" I grabbed the man by the arm of his coat and yanked it towards me. "Do you understand?" I felt panic well up inside me. I couldn't just be made to leave Lake Delran – I especially couldn't just drag Grids and Mattie with me. I wasn't a Lady of a house. I was... well, a girl. How could father do this? Leave, and then get killed four years later, leaving all of his responsibilities to me? Why to _me_? _Why did he care about me?_ My mind was racing, and I felt faint. The man must have noticed that I was having a tough time, because he reached out a hand to steady me. "Perhaps you should sit down – we will manage everything for you for now, my Lady. You needn't worry. Frell is a wonderful city, I'm sure you'll find your, well, lengthy stay there enjoyable. I've heard that the noble and royal balls given there are fabulous..." I closed my eyes. Just a mere twenty minutes ago, I'd been unsuspectingly having a water fight with Madeline. Now, it seemed as if my life was turned upside down. I would be made to leave Delran... who knew whether my aunt and cousin would even come with me? They loved their home here, I couldn't make them join me and become... become what? "... carriages will be here in two days to pick up you and your possessions." I hadn't realized the man was still speaking to me. "Am I considered noble?" I asked in a hoarse whisper. He looked surprised. "Why, of course. You are a Lady of Eldred, Lady Gemma – as are your aunt and cousin, if they choose to accompany you. You're father was a very rich man, and high-ranked in society. Although he seemed – pardon me, Lady – strange at times, he was well respected and liked among the nobles. The royal family especially valued him." The royal family? Would I be expected to know how to speak with them, how to act around them? The man sensed my discomfort. He seemed to be apt at knowing how I felt. I wasn't sure if that was a good thing. "I am acquainted with the King and Queen, my Lady", he told me. "The King is a young, kind, humorous man – Charmont. Surely you've heard of him?"

I nodded numbly. I had heard of King Charmont and his wife, Queen Eleanor. "Eleanor – the Queen – is a young woman. She is dutiful, yet full of laughter and fun. I am certain you will enjoy meeting both of them. Their children are around your age, my Lady. The princess is an... interesting lass." He smiled wryly, and I paused shortly from my swirl of thoughts to wonder what he meant by 'interesting'. "The prince", he continued, "is much like his father, although even more of a daredevil." The man chuckled at this. My heart pounded inside my chest. How would I learn to take care of everything in such a short amount of time? I could feel tears of stress and sadness coming on, and angrily swiped them away. I hadn't cried in years, yes, years. Not nearly since mother's death.

The man surprised me by reaching out and patting my hand. "My Lady, you will adjust. For the time being, I and several other men whom were well acquainted with your father will care for the estate. We will, of course, speak with you and your family before making any important decisions. I will see you in two days' time, Lady Gemma." He smiled at me before exiting.

Even though the man had been kind, I felt like throwing myself into the lake. I sat on the couch for a long time – an hour or two, pondering how my life would change. Around mid-afternoon, Ingrid entered the room slowly. Ingrid had always been best at telling how I felt, and she could see it now, too. When I was sad, I usually wanted to be alone, but Ingrid was someone so familiar that I couldn't walk off when she settled onto the couch beside me and enveloped me in a huge hug. I let my head sink against her chest, and she hummed a soft tune into my still-moist hair. Just minuets later, Mattie joined us, leaning her head against my shoulder and taking my hand.

"Don't worry, Gem", she told me, "Grids and I will be there." I let out a shaky sigh of relief. Now there was one thing less to think about. "You're coming?" I just had to be sure. Ingrid set her back straight, looking at me incredulously. "Of course Mat and I are coming with you, Gem! You think we'll just sit here while you go off and play Lady of the house on your own? She laughed, and I couldn't help smiling. "Not to mention missing the markets, the balls, the gowns, the gentlemen... and the estate, of course", Mattie spoke up. I frowned. "Yes, my father's estate." I turned to Ingrid. "Why did he give it to me?" I had to know. Ingrid shook her head. "I don't know, Gem", she said slowly, "but, since we're moving there, we'll do some scavenging and solve the riddle, eh?" She was trying to make it easier on me by turning the entire thing into a game. "But won't you... miss all this?" I waved a hand around the room. Ingrid nodded, a pained look flitting across her face. "Yes, yes I will. But I have my priorities." With that, she smiled at me. I knew Mattie would miss Delran, but Frell was just like an exciting adventure to her.

_End of flashback..._

Mattie moaned softly beside me, and I was startled from my thoughts. I felt sweat on my brow and hands. I flung the blanket off my body, but the sweat still continued creeping through the thin cotton of my nightgown. It was too warm inside, and my head was too full. Softly (I'd done this tons of times before), I slipped from the bed and padded across the room, traipsed gingerly down the stairs, and stepped outside.

The cool night air was so welcoming after the stuffy room that I gobbled it up, literally. The lake looked like something out of a fairytale; reflecting the glow of the moon on its surface. The leaves of the willows were tainted a silvery color under the moon's spell. A soft, warm breeze whispered through the trees' thin branches. The entire night had a completely magical feel to it – my second to last night at Lake Delran. I soaked in the sight of the willows, the water, and the night owls – everything, wondering how long I would have to wait before seeing my home again.

Sighing, I started walking along the shore, and then wading in the water. It was warm. The shore of the lake was large, and I had only covered a quarter of it when I heard a twig snap several yards behind me. I darted around, scanning the darkness. Nothing moved. I stepped closer, reaching the first tree of the forest. Slowly, I peaked around it, and was able to make out a flickering of light. A fire? Who would be insane enough to start a fire inside the forest? It was near the end of summer, and just a spark was enough to burn down the entire thing! I crept closer, fuming. Didn't these people know anything about trees? Reaching a thick trunk, I peered around its edge. 

Two men sat around a fire; one was about Ingrid's age, and the other was only a few years older than me. I scowled at their backs, at their stupidity. They were roasting a rabbit, which only made me angrier. I hated eating dead animals. The older one stood up, grunted something about 'more wood', and stalked off into the woods.

The younger one remained, staring darkly into the fire. Maybe he agreed with me on his companion's stupidity. I watched him closely. He looked only a little bit younger than eighteen, and his good looks were apparent. Even though he was stupid, I couldn't help thinking him attractive. Dark blonde hair fell to his jawbone, and into his eyes, which were a mysterious shade of green, highlighted by the flames. They didn't look very different from my own. He wore the royal emblem on his coat – I wondered whether he was an upper servant, or a knight, or some other thing I didn't know of. He was angry, or sad – his eyes told me everything, and I felt the desire to know why – before I remembered that the man was an idiot whom was trying to burn down my forest.

Suddenly, as if the fire had been reading my thoughts, a spark lifted to a low branch – which burst into flame. The man leapt up, but I was quicker. My eyes fell onto a water bucket near the fire, and I scrambled toward it. On my way, I crashed into the man and stumbled back, scraping my leg open on the bark of a nearby tree. Uttering a loud curse and shout, I reached for the bucket and tossed the water onto the flames. The man, lying on the ground beneath the branch, got soaked, and I would've laughed if the forest hadn't been in danger of burning down. I dashed to the side of lake, fetched more water, and threw it onto the remaining fire. It still wasn't extinguished. With a frustrated shriek, I grabbed the man's arm, tore off his coat, and smothered the flames with the expensive material. I didn't even bother to feel guilty. Panting, I turned around to find the man standing there with a fairly stunned expression spreading over his face. Just as I was expecting him to fall apart over his coat, or start apologizing, he burst into laughter. I supposed it looked funny – a random, ash-streaked, wet girl in her nightgown somewhere in the middle of the forest – but he could at least have apologized for nearly ruining everything! I stood there, my face growing hot. "Oh, yes, I'm so amused. You nearly burned down the place I live in, but hey – no need for apologies!" I glowered at him.  
"So sorry... didn't know what... I was doing... you look... so funny... my lady..." he couldn't shut up, but just stood there cracking up.  
"Are you trying to make fun of me because I ruined your noble coat? Because if that's the case, then my sincerest apologies", I spit out sarcastically. "If you hadn't tried to burn down a bunch of trees in the first place, we wouldn't even be in this situation!" He gasped for air, sitting down. Finally, he was able to control himself, and rasped, "No, no, not my coat – just you, in that - " he gestured at the nightgown, and I noticed that it was partly see through from the water "– all dirty and... I haven't seen a Lady looking so funny in years! Although that was some quick handling on your part." He grinned up at me – disarmingly so. "Excuse me for trying to save the trees, which is more than I can say for you", I retorted grumpily. He merely laughed. "You came out of nowhere", he said, switching topics. Those were the typical men – always switching the subject when they were confronted with the truth. "Ahem... might I know your name, my Lady?" I bit my lip. Could I trust this stranger? Simply my first name couldn't hurt. "I'm Gemma", I told him. He didn't seem so bad now, so I used a not un-friendly tone. He cocked his head. "Lady Gemma, Peasant Gemma, Princess Gemma...?" I kicked at a pebble on the ground. "Why does it matter?" 

He regarded me with a look of liking. "You're right. It doesn't matter at all." I didn't know what to say to his easy agreement, so I looked at the ground.

"And you are?" He hesitated, too, though I couldn't imagine for what reason. He was probably just another one of the Palace's squires. "It's Seth", he informed me. "Seth of Frell." I arched an eyebrow. "Of Frell? What would someone of Frell be doing here?" He smiled mysteriously, green eyes flashing. My face grew warm, and I pinched myself. "Taking a vacation. The capital can be... tiring as you grow older."

I leaned forward with interest. "Oh, really? I'd be interested to learn, as I'll soon be living there." He sat up. "Will you? Working at the market?" I gave him an annoyed look. "Why would you think that?"

Seth shrugged. "Well, usually girls who live in the woods aren't part of noble society. Sorry if I'm mistaken on your behalf." He grinned again, flashing white teeth. I smirked. "Well, perhaps you'll find out if we happen to run into each other, once I'm there. So – I'm taking it you're noble, since you're speaking of 'society'?" He shrugged, again the mysterious one.

"You'll have to see, my Lady, won't you?" I was set to make my reply when a shout penetrated the darkness.

Ingrid! How long had I been out here? A second shout cut through the stillness. Seth's eyebrows were raised; he looked slightly concerned. "Missed a rendezvous, my Lady?" he mocked me. I was torn between laughing and running towards the sound of my Aunt's voice. No doubt she was worried. "I'm afraid not", I retorted sweetly, "but I must be on my way, so – it was a pleasure to meet you." With an exaggerated curtsy, I made my way back towards the lake. "Until we meet again." I turned around in time to see Seth salute me. Raising my hand in goodbye, I ran towards Ingrid. My aunt was worried, but quickly cheered up after I assured her that I ran into no strange people on my moonlit stroll – alone. It was partly true.

_One day later..._

Mattie tugged at my sleeve cuffs, loosening the ribbons that separated the cuffs from the sleeves. Snatching my arms away from her, I sat back moodily, leaning against the carriage seat. Mattie, oblivious to my annoyance, laughed in excitement at the surrounding booths of the market. 

Although the dangerous, pretty, or sparkling material was impressive, I was in a foul mood. The heat was oppressive – even though it was nearly autumn, and my best gown – the one with the tight bodice – didn't help. Frell, with its bustling crowds, loud, enchanting, or dramatic voices, wild or majestic buildings, certainly looked the part of the capital.

I didn't know how I could fit in here. Did ladies here have water fights with rowdy boys by the lake? Did they camp out in the woods in the dead of night, listening to the crude jokes of their companions or telling spooky tales? Did they wrestle in the high meadow on Midsummer Eve? I didn't think so.

When Ingrid nudged my arm, pointing to something fascinating, I would smile – after her leaving just to come with me, I didn't want to be cross with her, but grateful. Still – Ingrid knew how to fit in anywhere. She was a well-rounded person.

Our carriage rounded into a part of the city where the houses were more widely spaced. The gardens grew larger and more complex. It was all so... structured. Finally, we reached a wide alley, coursing through an enormous meadow spotted with wild flowers and clumps of trees. I couldn't help thinking of miniature forests. The alley lead up to a large, copper gate, which lead into a courtyard.

I had a courtyard? The thought nearly made me burst out laughing. The courtyard was three times the size of our old cottage, with a large herb garden, hen house and pond to the left and stables to the right. The floor was made up of tan flagstones, and led to a large, white staircase, where the servants were lined up on either side. I awkwardly accepted the driver's hand as he helped me down from the carriage seat.

The man from two days before came forward, and bowed. The servants imitated him. I'd never felt so odd before in my entire life. The man smiled at me, through his white moustache, and pushed the glasses further up onto his nose. "Lads, lasses", he announced in a deep, booming voice, very different from the one I'd heard before, "This is the Lady Gemma – Sir Frederick's daughter." He gently took my arm and pulled me forward. I smiled awkwardly at the assembly of people – young kitchen boys, the cook, guards, and a few girls around my age with spotless white aprons, stable boys, and menservants...

"These are the Ladies Ingrid and Madeline", he continued. Madeline looked a bit taken aback, but otherwise pleased. Ingrid just looked her usual charming self.

"Please make them feel welcome here. Amanda, Rebecca." He nodded at two girls – the ones in white aprons. They stepped forward, and curtseyed. "These are to be your two handmaidens", Sir Crowell informed me. "They will show you to your rooms, and give you a tour of the manor." The first girl smiled at me. She was pretty, with thick red hair and sparkling blue eyes. "Please follow us." They turned, and began walking up the staircase. Ingrid nodded her head at me, signaling me to go. I hesitated, still feeling strange, and then hurried to catch up.

**Hiyas! It's the first time I'm posting anything on fanfiction, so no flames plz. This chappie was long, I know, and sorta boring parts - but it'll clear up - beginnings are hard. Hang in there... and please r&r puppy eyes**

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	2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two  
  
I sat in my room, watching the first rain of the season pour down outside. I couldn't leave my room, because I'd gotten lost every time I had left it the past day. The manor had over fifty rooms, with a fireplace in each one, on two floors. That was all I could remember from the tour three days ago. Everything else Rebecca had said hadn't really registered.

Just as I was thinking about her, the door opened, and she walked in, holding a pile of laundry. She grinned at me, flopped down on the bed, and started sorting it out. A few minuets later, she walked over to me. "Ge – I mean, Lady", she said, "You should start getting ready now for the palace. You're due there in... three hours." Before I could say anything, she bounded over to the bed, picked up several dresses, and held the first one up to me. It was a hideous pink, and I made a face, which made us both laugh.

"Um, Rebecca, I don't need three hours to get ready", I told her. "And I can do with out the 'lady'. Besides, I thought the royal family was... you know, low key." It was a relief not to speak so stiffly with her as I did with everyone else now. She had seemed shy on the first day, but her mask had quickly fallen off to reveal the true character.

Now, Rebecca gave me one of her charming, redhead grins. "It's still important to look nice – shows some respect, La – Gemma", she scolded me mockingly. "Specially with that Frellan prince lurking about." She gave me a wink, and continued holding up dresses.

I rolled my eyes. "Probably some stuffy old brat", I retorted, flinching as she slipped a corset on me and began to pull tight. Rebecca giggled. "Nah", she drawled, "they say he's a... frisky lad", she told me giddily as she nearly suffocated me. "I look forward to meeting him, then", I said with a cynical smile. I gasped; it was hard to talk at all with the thing forcing the air from my lungs. Rebecca noticed, and made me sit down on the bed. "The Ladies need to adjust to these", she drawled with a smirk. "They can be hard on the ribcage the first few times around."

I scrunched up my shoulders in pain. "The first few times?" I gasped, leaning forward. "More like... a permanent... pain..." Rebecca frowned, but dragged me to my feet. "Alright, I suppose we can loosen it just a tad", she said in a disappointed tone. The pressure on my bones loosened slightly, but it was still all I could think about. Rebecca looked put out, though, so I didn't say anything. I didn't want to kill my only companion on the third day of our relationship.

After several more dresses, we decided on a light green one with curved neckline and spring green ribbons at the bodice. After messing with my hair for an hour, Rebecca was satisfied with the elegant bun she'd produced. I was on the verge of exploding and falling apart. Would I have to go through this torture every time before seeing the royal family?

Turned out that it had taken three hours to get ready – the carriage was on the verge of leaving without me just before I scurried inside. Ingrid looked lovely in deep red silk, and Mattie reminded me of a pink flower. She was only thirteen, so she had no idea what it felt like to have your ribcage cracked apart. I was sure Ingrid was wearing a corset – but her face was impassive. I couldn't help being jealous.

The outside of the palace was cream, and its five turrets were capped with roofs of copper shingles. An arc passed from the top of one center turret to the other. The walls gleamed, and the copper shone in the late sunlight. The palace made it difficult to hate having come to Frell. Servants leaned out of the lower windows, calling to each other. The upper windows were made of colored glass. The courtyard was gigantic, ten times the size of our own, and three footmen stepped up to the carriage in order to escort Ingrid, Mattie and I up the sophisticated white banister.

I tried to get a good look at my footman's face, but his cap was drawn low down so that I couldn't see anything. He seemed to find something funny – he was hiding a laugh. The double doors swung open, and I stepped away from him, glaring. He turned his head in the opposite direction, and I caught a chuckle escaping his lips. I was about to open my mouth to make a sharp reply when Ingrid gave my arm a tight tug. I looked up in time to see her laughing. I heard a yell from somewhere near me, and if Ingrid hadn't pulled me out of the way, I would've been knocked over by someone literally flying down the banister!

I laughed out loud, not believing it. I so wanted to try that! I hadn't known servants were allowed to slide down banisters here. I was stunned when the woman who'd slid down landed gracefully on her feet and nodded to us, still laughing. Mattie threw me an estranged look. "So sorry - " she let out a burst of laughter "– I'm... Ella of Frell... it's a pleasure... to meet Sir Frederick's relatives..." her laughter died away, and my eyes widened. This was the Queen of Kyrria? I was impressed.

I curtseyed, wobbling. "I'm Gemma, of... of Eldred, your Highness", I introduced myself clumsily. The Queen smiled at me, taking both my hands in hers. "You look like your father, Gemma", she told me. "I miss him... every day. I'm sorry for your loss..." she drifted off, lost in thought. These people had loved my father? What was wrong with them?

A man walked into the room. His walk left no doubt about whom he was, although his young face was still freckled, and his eyes sparkled with fun. His gaze traveled from his wife to me, and I saw something stir in his eyes – a memory. Did I really look that much like my dead father? "Lady Gemma, I've been waiting to meet the maiden your father spoke of on countless occasions." He bowed.

I was taken aback. The King was bowing to me? Deep red, I muttered, "Thank-you. You're very kind, your highness." The King shook his head, grinning. "No daughter, or niece, or sister in law of Frederick should call me 'highness', Ladies. We can do without the formalities. I trust you've met Ella, my wife?" The Queen snapped from her daydream, and smiled dazedly at us.

"Of course, Char", she murmured to her husband. "I nearly collided with Gemma when I slid down the stair-rail." That produced a laugh from him – and I loved his laugh. Full of life and fun. I was so confused, though. They were treating me as equals to them – had father been so important and loved in this household? Had he been some kind of god?

I smiled sardonically. That wasn't possible. He was a vicious man. It was as if Frell and I knew two different people. Mattie looked just as confused as I felt, but smiled nonetheless. Ingrid, always being the smooth operator, was exchanging warm greetings with the King and Queen. Both kept looking in my direction and smiling with such kindness, almost as if they saw me as my own father.

The thought sent shivers down my spine.

Several minuets later, the Queen cleared her throat. "Our friend and cook, Mandy, is serving dinner now. Would you join us?"

Ingrid nodded gratefully. I could tell she liked the King and Queen. On the way to the dining hall, I wondered where their son and daughter were. Shouldn't they have welcomed us along with their parents?

The palace was beautiful on the inside, too – tapestries on nearly every wall of hunting scenes, court scenes, landscapes... I noticed that miniature things with wings lighted all chandeliers – each one gave off a bright glow as it fluttered back and forth in its place. The banisters were all made from either elfin wood or marble found in the gnome caverns. I noticed that every time we passed a stair rail, the royal couple was barely able to resist a slide, until I found it hard, too.

Suddenly, Seth popped into my mind. _It would be fun to slide down the banister with him,_ I caught myself thinking, and was forced to pinch myself as we were led into the dining room.

It was much like ours at Eldred – luxurious, but comfortable. The Queen must've read my thoughts, because she pulled out a chair for me, saying, "This is the room we use for friends of ours. The table in the formal dining hall is so long that you can barely see the person at the opposite end." I giggled, surprising myself.

As we sat down, the King seemed to get more and more agitated, until he stood up, pacing the room.

"What is it, Char?" Ella asked him.

He turned to face us, an irritated look on his face. "I told Sebastian to be here at seven, but he's disappeared – again! As has Katrina." Ella turned to our confused faces. "Sebastian is our son and Katrina our daughter." Her face took on an annoyed look. "They're late, as always –" The double doors swinging open interrupted her. A girl walked in, maybe a year younger than me. Her long, dark hair was tousled all the way down to her hips, and she had several smudges of dirt on her pale skin, accenting her copper colored eyes. Her dress was torn along the hem and at the neckline. I bit my lip to keep from laughing. She looked a lot like I would've looked, had I not been forced into a corset and washed.

I'd managed relatively well so far with the vicious thing, but now it started cutting off my air again, now and then.

_Don't think about it, Gem,_ I told myself fiercely. _This is supposed to be important._

Katrina stopped walking towards us when she saw me, and stared. Her eyes were wide, and her smile ebbed slowly away. It was all I could do not to squirm under her penetrating gaze. Never taking her eyes off me, she curtseyed. "You must be Gemma", she said in a strained, throaty voice. I nodded, wondering why she was acting so strange.

"Nice to meet you", I said, trying to break the ice and breathing hard through my corset. It couldn't have been just because of my resemblance to father that she continued to stare so, and made no more response. Char stood, noticing the tension.

"Katrina, you're late again", he said exasperatedly.

The princess finally tore her eyes away from me, smiled at Ingrid and Mattie, and turned to Char. "Sorry, I was out riding. Won't happen again." She smiled apologetically at everyone, but avoided my gaze.

"And where would your brother be?" Ella prompted. Katrina grinned, her face amused. "As usual, I have no idea." She seemed so friendly – to everyone but me. What had I done? She didn't even know me!

The food was extravagantly good – I'd never had anything like it, but couldn't eat very much because my ribcage threatened to crack whenever I swallowed. The royal family (or the three quarters that I'd met) was so funny and kind, providing much laughter and talks of customs, upcoming events, and people. Katrina was very talkative, especially to Mattie – but she never spoke directly to me. It was a relief to excuse myself after dessert – I'd earned a break after hours in a suffocating corset and around a princess that seemed to hate me.  
  
With the directions of a servant, I found my way into a part of the gardens. Although the trimmed hedges, fragrant roses, and structured fountains were distracting from the increasing pain in my ribcage, they weren't distracting enough. By the end of just another ten minuets, I could barely walk from pain.

I bent over, panting, clutching at the base of a wooden garden arch. The stabs of pain grew larger and longer with every ragged breath, and the garden turned hazy and began to spin. Panicking, I rasped out a pathetic 'help', but no one could've heard. I tore frantically at the collar of my dress, kneeling on the ground, but to no avail. I felt as if a thousand knives were being thrust into my stomach, and stopped breathing altogether from fear of the pain.

I looked up in time to see a dark figure approaching me on the path, and staggered a few steps in its direction – until a horrible darkness sucked me to the ground.

**Ok, another chappie up! Please, please review - you review mine, I review yours - I promise! So just push that button... ;-)**


	3. Chapter Three: Wayne

Chapter Three  
  
Wayne's patience was running out – he needed to get out. His mother's chatter of wedding plans was making him dizzy; he felt sick to his stomach. Inconspicuously, he edged from the dining room into the antechamber of his family's apartments inside the royal palace. Once there, he lightly touched the doorknob.  
  
His mother had sharp ears – the slightest noise and he would be forced to listen to another two hours as his and Alicia's mothers rattled on about petite cakes, ball attire, and the 'darling suits' he and Sebastian would be forced into throughout the ceremony.  
  
The door swung open soundlessly, and Wayne slipped out into the empty hallway. As he began to make his way towards the gardens, he breathed a sigh of relief. After a tad of fresh air, he'd feel like a new man.  
  
On his way to the gardens, he couldn't help pitying Sebastian. The prince had been asked by Wayne's mother to serve as her darling son's best man during the ceremony, and as Wayne's best friend, Sebastian had had no choice but to accept.  
  
Wayne knew it was a selfish thing to think, but at least he wouldn't be the only one having to endure his fiancée's endless chatter. He wouldn't be the only one squeezed into a tight suit. He wouldn't be the only one enduring his mother's syrupy sighs as he walked, with his bride-to-be, to the alter in order to receive the king's and the priest's blessings.  
  
But while he felt sorry for his best friend, he felt even sorrier for himself. He was the one who'd be spending the rest of his life in a walking, brainless doll's company. Alicia meant well, he supposed, but she bored him to tears with her incessant talking and spoiled habits, not to mention annoyed him. Wayne was only marrying the girl because it was what his family most wanted – it was that which would make them happy once more and reunite them after his father's death several months before. He had been slain by bandits, and his body had never been found.  
  
Wayne quickly shied away from that thought – back to Alicia. His mother adored Alicia, not to mention the noble girl's rich family, and his sister looked up to her as if Alicia portrayed Aphrodite herself. She was nearly beautiful enough, but certainly lacked the intelligence.  
  
What better way was there to make his own family happy once more? Besides, it wouldn't be that bad, he reckoned – it wasn't as if Alicia would be accompanying him on his and Sebastian's trips to keep ogres out of the elfin forest and the gnome caverns. She wouldn't be there when he and the rest of friends – once they were knighted – went on greater quests.  
  
With this thought to console him, Wayne stepped into the fragrantly blooming palace gardens, gulping down the fresh air and five minutes of freedom.  
He'd worried about his wedding enough for one day – there were still seven days left to crack his head open on the matter.  
For the first time in a week, he wasn't in the presence of blinded Alicia fans, which weren't able to see past her ignorance and jealousy. He was alone amidst the fresh air, the spring flowers, and his own personal opinions of his fiancée that he wasn't permitted to voice amongst the rest of the court.  
  
Just as he turned a corner, beginning to relax, something caught his eye. He could just make out small, dark figure, clutching at something. Its skirts billowed around it, and Wayne recognized that the figure was a woman. He started running towards her – perhaps it was Alicia, who'd been foolish enough to pull her corset too tight, or something along those lines. If Alicia died in his presence, his family would never forgive him. The figure crumpled to the ground – she was still.  
  
"In Kyrria's name, don't suffocate on me", he muttered, reaching the girl. He swept dark hair out of her face – it wasn't Alicia, Alicia was blonde! Her face was deathly pale, and Wayne snatched up his dagger, slit through the thin material of her gown, and sliced through the corset, trying not to cut through the Lady's undergarments in the process. The moment after he'd ripped the corset off, the girl heaved, coughed, and gagged, fighting in order to sit up. Putting his hand on her back in order to support her, Wayne shook his head.  
  
"Why do you women always suffocate yourselves in order to look beautiful?" he muttered to himself, slapping the girl across the back again and again as she coughed up bile. She struggled to her knees, panting, in front of him. Her face was even paler than before, and her lips had barely any color in them. Even so, Wayne couldn't help noticing that she seemed extremely pretty, with petite features and silky, raven-colored hair that was coming loose from its bun. He touched her arm.  
  
"Are you feeling alright now, my Lady?" She raised her eyes to his, and Wayne's own eyes widened. They were as green as Lord Frederick's had been – his good friend, whom had died only shortly before his father had.  
"I'm perfectly alright...." She gasped for breath, wobbling to her feet. Leaning against a white pillar, she nodded to him. "Thank-you, good evening."  
  
Wayne raised his eyebrows. This wasn't what he'd expected from a court maiden. Most girls would've loved to be in this one's situation, with him assisting them. Brushing a dark lock out of his aquamarine eyes, he caught up with her just as she nearly collapsed again.  
  
"My Lady, you need a mug of drink and rest." She shook her head and drew herself up. "I'm dining with the royal family, they're surely awaiting my return." Her voice was tinged with sarcasm as she began slowly walking forward once more.  
Wayne stopped, frowning into the darkness. He'd spoken with Sebastian earlier, and he'd said his family was dining with someone important tonight... Lord Frederick's daughter and her family! This had to be the Lady Gemma – no wonder she bore such similarities to the dead man that had once been Wayne's closest friend, with the exception of the prince.  
  
No wonder she wasn't accustomed to her corset – Frederick had mentioned that she lived away from civilization. Although he'd told many other tales of her as a small girl, he'd never gone into the topic of where exactly his daughter lived. Now that Wayne thought of it, it struck him as very strange. He should have followed Frederick on one of the Lord's monthly excursions – visits to his daughter, whom he had been so fond of.  
  
Now, Wayne ran a few steps to catch up with Frederick's daughter. "Lady Gemma!" he called after her.  
She stopped and swiveled her head around, narrowing her eyes. "Look, after you saved me from suffocating", she told him, her voice sarcastic, "I thought you were actually the one person in the entire palace who didn't recognize me by sight. Turns out I was wrong about that, too."  
  
He grinned at her tone. "Not only do you look immensely like your father, Lady, but you act the part", he retorted easily. "Now, let's get you to Mandy. She'll fix you up."  
Gemma raised her eyebrows at him. "I don't need fixing up. I'm perfectly presentable, aren't I?"  
Wayne stared at her, realizing she didn't know a thing about courtly behavior. Amused, he took in her shivering body, only in undergarments, hair in a mess, face still pale, and defiant eyes.  
  
He didn't mean to laugh, but it just came. Never in his life had he stood in the royal gardens, or anywhere for that matter, with a half-bare, nearly strangled girl on his hands who was about to march up to the palace in order to dine with the king and queen. He stood there, laughing, and watched the girl's face go from pale to exasperated, which only made him laugh harder.  
  
Gemma placed her hands on her hips. "Funny. This is the second time in a week that I'm isolated somewhere in my underclothes, not to mention with some secretive noble who thinks it's hilarious when I nearly get myself killed."  
Wayne finally composed himself. "Beg... pardon", he chocked out, still laughing a bit. "But it's not every day you find a noble girl, specially Fred – I mean, Lord Frederick's daughter, who just walks off to meet the royal family in her undergarments after nearly suffocating to death."  
  
Gemma sighed and shrugged. "I suppose that sort of thing doesn't happen at all here", she said bitterly, meeting Wayne's eyes.  
He quickly looked away; they reminded him so much of Frederick it hurt. Coughing, he turned back to Gemma. "Well... occasionally, a Lady pulls her corset a tad too tight and gets plucked off for a while", he stated, "but they always lie around, waiting for some noble's son to come and give them the kiss of life. I've never just seen one standing up and walking off... with the exception of your father – in a more manly fashion."  
  
Gemma faced him, her eyes flashing. "Is there anything about my father and I that wasn't the same?" her voice was sharp and annoyed. "I keep hearing how similar we are – were." She paused; they were nearly at the kitchen's back door. The beam of light from its interior nearly shone to their feet, and they could hear servants bustling about. Delicious fumes wafted underneath their noses. "My father and I were two completely different people," she finished coolly.  
Wayne gave her an inquisitive look. He couldn't help being curious about what she spoke of. Hadn't she loved her father? She was speaking so in compassionately of him.  
  
"I didn't desert my family as he did," he overheard Gemma muttering to herself. Wayne hadn't heard anything so ridiculous in years, with the exception of him marrying Alicia.  
"I was under the impression that your father visited you every month, my Lady", he replied. There was a frosty emphasis on the 'Lady'. The only two courtiers that had ever spoken badly of Frederick had been Wayne's mother and Princess Katrina. Wayne hadn't listened to his mother; he'd told her to be silent. She had barely known him.  
  
The princess had, and still did favor Wayne over many other men at court because he wasn't arrogant, nor was he after her for a title and money – and so she'd stayed away from the subject after the first, and last, debate on Lord Frederick.  
The princess had been under some random impression that Lord Frederick was connected with sorcery, something she had been wise enough to keep to herself after Wayne had threatened to leave her to her greedy, empty-hearted suitors and severe his and her friendship. He had only questioned the princess once about how she came upon such a notion, and she'd shied away from a valid answer. As for Wayne's mother, she loved gossip and loved being connected to royalty in any way – it disgusted Wayne how she sucked up to Sebastian and his sister. She had most likely wormed Katrina's suspicions from her.  
  
Was Gemma, being Frederick's own daughter, just like them? The Lord had cared deeply for his daughter, so that wasn't possible.  
"My father and I haven't seen each other since I was eleven", Gemma responded to his thoughts. Her voice was still cool, but also confused. "He left my family four years ago. I don't know why, and he never visited..."  
  
Wayne stared at her. "Sir Frederick?" Gemma nodded, frowning at the ground. "The same."  
Wayne was stunned. She seemed as confused as he was – so was there something to Frederick that he had never known?  
  
Gemma raised her eyes to his again, and it took all the control he possessed not to look away. "I don't know his motives for leaving and not coming back. You seem to know him well, so perhaps you could tell me."  
Frederick shook his head violently, his black locks flying into his eyes. "No, no! Frederick left every month, saying he was departing in order to pay his daughter a visit. He told me stories of you whenever there was nothing else important to discuss. He seemed like... well, like he loved you very much. Why else would he have left his entire estate to you, Lady Gemma?"  
  
Gemma shook her head in annoyance and confusion. "I don't know! I don't know why he wants me here now, after his death, even though he acted like he despised me. Although I intend to find out."  
She lifted her chin into the air, clasping her hands behind her back. Her eyes flashed, and Wayne's heart gave way to a small twinge.  
  
His adventurous grin was back. "And I, my Lady, shall assist you." Gemma smiled for the first time that evening. "You expect me to allow someone who laughed at me in my nightclothes help?"  
Wayne shook his finger at her mockingly. "Of course. Where would the fun be, otherwise?"

**Sorry - I know this chapter was sort of non-adventurous, but I really wanted to introduce Wayne and have him meet Gemma, because he's a super important part of the story. In the next chappie, the fun at last begins!**

**Thanks so much to my reviewers, you make it easier! Please keep it up!**


	4. Chapter Four: Between Katrina and Conrad

Chapter Four  
  
"No." Katrina spoke the word softly but firmly, her hazel-eyed gaze riveted on the prince's ice blue one.  
  
An expression of dumbfounded shock spread over Prince Conrad's angelic face. He regarded Katrina with a tantalizing, searching gaze. It was all the princess could do not to look away. Usually this man disgusted her with his arrogant, cruel manner – even though he was exceedingly handsome – but now, his eyes were two pools of ice, boring into her soul.  
  
Well, he could stare at her delicate face all he wanted, but her soul would never belong to this conceited imbecile.  
  
Swiftly, the princess rose, energetically pushing her black locks over her shoulders. She regarded Conrad with a cool, composed gaze – she was an expert at masking her true feelings. If she hadn't been masking them, she would have been running around the sitting room, screaming:  
  
Even though she'd been expecting the Prince of Chitin's marriage proposal, the actual event unfolding before her eyes had unnerved her to the extreme. It was only to be expected – he had been courting her over the past few months, starting after the Spring Feast.  
  
They had known each other since Katrina was a baby – Conrad was several years older -, but the two had always been very different. Katrina knew the differences came from their separate upbringings: her parents had always been gentle with her; yet firm in teaching her the rules of the house and a princess's duties. They had allowed her to make her own choices about where she went and what she did – as long as her acts weren't rash, cruel, or harmful to the royal family (or others), and under the condition that she was within protection. Her parents were fun loving, free-spirited, kind – and at the same time able to rule Kyrria with a firm hand.  
  
Before that year's Spring Feast, Conrad hadn't seen Katrina in two years – his family had been ill and unable to attend the Feast the year before. The royal family of Chitin, a neighboring country of Kyrria's, ruled their Kingdom with a stiff, harsh quality – their subjects were intimidated by them, and thus were kept in line. There was no fun in their household, except for ridicule and hunting – bloody hunts were the King's favorite pastime, and the pleasure had been passed on to Conrad.  
  
Katrina had changed between her twelfth and fourteenth year. When Conrad had seen her before the illness swept through his land, he had been disgusted with the defiant, constantly dirty, biting little wench. He'd thought her ugly – her long, black hair constantly in snarls from clambering around in trees, her complexion sunburned from running through the high fields – instead of the fashionable primrose color, and her face always smudged with dirt and grim from wrestling in the mud. The only reason Conrad had never bullied Katrina was because her brother, Prince Sebastian, threatened to scalp him if Conrad ever so much as touched her.  
  
The feeling, on Katrina's part, had been mutual – she had always despised Conrad's arrogant, cruel manner to those who weren't of his class.  
  
Even though Katrina's feelings about her nemesis didn't change at the Spring Feast of her fourteenth year, after the illness, Conrad's perspective of her certainly did.  
  
When the royal family of Kyrria had descended the outside banister leading into the largest exterior courtyard, where the Feast was to be held, Conrad had stared in wonder at the beautiful, raven-haired maiden descending the banister, her arm gracefully entwined with Prince Sebastian's.  
  
The lucky bastard, Conrad had thought, his eyes narrowing into slits at the sight of the Prince's obviously new conquest.  
  
How surprised he had been when, moments later, the herald announced to the assembly, "Presenting their royal Highnesses: King Charmont of Kyrria, his Queen Eleanor of Kyrria, and their two royal children – Prince Sebastian of Kyrria... and the Princess Katrina of Kyrria!"  
  
That beautiful wench on the Prince's arm was his formerly wild, scratched, muddy sister! Conrad's parents had been after him for the past months to find a maiden suitable to sit on the throne (looking perfect, of course) at his side once they abdicated the throne of Chitin. Now, as he looked upon the Princess's impassive, marble face – much like his own at times – he knew he had to have her.  
  
Moments later, the royal family had finished descending the banister. His parents had sweetly greeted them – they loved Char and Ella simply because they led a more powerful regime than they did.  
  
Conrad had bowed politely to Prince Sebastian – something he had never done before. He was barely able to contain his smirk at the Prince's surprised face – the Prince-ling would be even more astounded once his sister fell to Conrad's feet.  
  
But Conrad was mighty mistaken. When his eyes met Katrina's, she curtsied to him in the courtly fashion, not wanting to arouse any scandal about how she despised the Chitin prince. As soon as Conrad had raised her hand to lips, however, and the backs of the parents were turned, she had gracefully twisted his hand, nearly cracking his wrist.  
  
Eliciting a hissed curse, he had stepped back. Katrina had smirked and started to sidle away, but not before Conrad's mother had swooped down upon her – pleased with the apparent change in the girl – and pushed her into the first waltz with Conrad.  
  
With most of the court watching her every move, Katrina couldn't desert Conrad and leave him alone in the middle of dance floor – not without causing a huge scandal. So, quickly wiping her face free of disgust, she became a marble princess, allowing Conrad to whisper unwanted compliments to her while twirling her about the dance floor.  
  
Two years before, Katrina would have bitten Conrad and pounced on him, not to mention beaten him to a pulp for just touching her, before the entire court.  
  
But now, she had partially grown into a Lady – she knew how to uphold her reputation as a princess by hiding her emotion in public, and at the same time climb, run and yell as much as she wanted wearing a disguise – a blonde wig, perhaps, and peasant skirts. She did this quite often.  
  
The change in Katrina was not the only reason Conrad was attracted to the princess. No, the fact that she would be heiress to the most powerful country he knew, once her parents abdicated the throne, was also enticing to the extreme. The only obstacle standing in his way was her elder brother, the current heir – but Conrad would be rid of the charming Sebastian, one way or another.  
  
Now, after Katrina had given him a clear 'no' to his gallant proposal, Conrad clenched his jaw. He had been sending her gifts, complimenting her and gallantly escorting her to all the grand events for the past two seasons! He had been nothing but charming, kind and handsome. How dare she! She couldn't do better than him – there was not a single man more attractive and charming in the entire country than he!  
  
Katrina's face was cold stone as he stared at her, his face growing redder by the second. She didn't even flinch at his growing anger and need to act.  
  
"Katrina", he pronounced demurely, struggling to contain his venom, "You must face facts: there is no man more suited to you than I. You must admit that I am attractive, if I do say so myself - " he interrupted himself to flash her a charming smile "– and able to protect you and stand by you in whatever situation, better than any other man could."  
  
Katrina's face paled visibly with anger. "Conrad", she spoke coldly, "Firstly, I am too young for marriage." Ignoring his mocking little laugh, she glanced around the room, scanning it for servants. Then, lowering her voice, she continued, "Secondly, I despise you with every ounce of flesh and blood in my body. You have been, quite truly, a gentleman to me throughout the past months." She paused, smirking up at him sardonically, "but you are an arrogant, snobbish pig to any man, woman or child of lesser statues than you. When I marry, I plan to marry someone who will respect his subjects, and is not marrying me for my beauty - " she looked him square in the eyes, her irises flaming "– or for my title."  
  
With that, she gathered up her skirts. "Goodbye, Conrad." His pride was shattered – no girl had ever refused him; most fawned over him – and that was enough to make him lose his temper. But this girl was also endangering what he most wanted: power. No other King had ever ruled two combined countries before him; he would be the first to have such control – if he could get this wench to behave herself.  
  
He leapt out of his chair with trained speed, launching himself at Katrina. The princess wasn't warned, and was taken totally by surprise when she found herself pressed against the sitting room wall, Conrad's arm nearly restricting her throat.  
  
Conrad, looking down at her beautiful face, didn't see an ounce of fear in those freezing hazel eyes. This only angered him more. "Katrina, I'm giving you one last chance", his hissed, his breath whipping her cheeks. "Accept me, or you will suffer the consequences. Think of what power we would have together, princess. You can't deny that power doesn't tempt you. I've seen you beat boys with the sword and with the arrow. I've watched you beat them down into the mud. I've seen you out-race them. What is that, if not power? You want it – as you want me." Smirking, he leaned in to give her a harsh kiss.  
  
Katrina flipped her hand up in front of her mouth. Conrad brushed her damp, coal-colored locks away from her cheeks and for-head. "Frightened, my love?" he hissed fiercely, moving his mouth against her hand. Her face contorting with disgust and anger, she said, "Do you know what the consequences for you would be if I were to scream 'bloody murder' right at this moment? The palace guards are poster everywhere, you fool."  
  
Conrad's arm only tightened over her throat. "My, my, what a brave little princes we have here", he whispered, pressing himself against her. Now he could see that Katrina was beginning to struggle for air.  
  
"Won't the situation look incredibly suspicious if they find me suffocated to death with you nearby?" she gasped, glaring at him.  
  
He moved his other hand deftly up her side, inching towards her chest. "Oh, I'm not going to kill you – I'm just playing my little game, until you agree to be my bride, love", he told her in a low voice, edged with passion.  
  
Katrina's vision was going foggy. "I would rather be caught by the most feared bandit in the county – and let him have his way with me – than ever exchange vows with you!"  
  
Conrad's hand passed into her low neckline, pressing himself even closer to her trembling frame. His breath quickened with pleasure as Katrina's eyes began to see black.  
  
"You will die", she panted, "I will stand on the highest balcony in this palace and scream to the entire kingdom what you did to me, and you will die..." she chocked, and was forced to break off. Conrad moved his lips against her neck; his hand moving over every part of her.  
  
Katrina had never felt so alone; so helpless... so defeated. She made a last attempt to bite his arm – the prince only chuckled huskily. "My little princess – is your brother's life not important to you?"  
  
Katrina gasped a last time, stiffening – and Conrad knew he had her. 


	5. Chapter Five: Katrina's Fear

**Ok, hey guys! I'm just wondering, did everyone stop reading after chapter three besides Riley? I was dissapointed to only get one review on the last chap - I thought it was the best chapter I've written so far. **

**As for my review from Riley, thank-you! I couldn't wish for a better reviewer than you, you're totally encouraging! **

**I'm also going to say that I'm not going to update before I get least seven more reviews on this story.**

**Ok, enjoy the chap, and by the way - this takes place about half an hour before Conrad proposes to Katrina, in other words, chapter four.**

Chapter Five  
  
It had been a week since the Gemma met the royal family – with the exception of Prince Sebastian, who hadn't put in an appearance.  
  
The autumn morning dawned gray, with a slight drizzle now and then. Rebecca had a disgruntled Gemma up at six o'clock sharp in order to prepare her for that day's excursion: Queen Ella had requested that she be in the palace courtyard by ten in order to meet the Prince, who had apparently been a very close friend to the deceased Lord Frederick.  
  
The Queen had also noticed the tense air between Gemma and her daughter, and wanted to set a feeling of respect between the two. Ella knew that Katrina had avoided Lord Frederick, albeit been polite to him.  
  
At the Spring Feast two seasons ago, Ella could have sworn she even caught a twinge of fear sparkling in Katrina's eyes, when Lord Frederick met the girl's gaze as he kissed her hand in the proper courtly greeting.  
  
She had never mentioned these observations to her daughter – to do so would have meant a quick and sudden defeat at her daughter's prideful hand. Yes, Katrina had too much pride ever to admit, even to her own mother, that she had been afraid of something as foolish as one man.  
But the tension between Katrina and his _daughter_ was ridiculous. Katrina barely knew the girl, and even though it had seemed to Ella that Gemma was completely like her father, she could have been mistaken.  
  
Ella had loved Frederick as one of her closest friends, and she wanted her children to at least try and feel the same way. She had no doubt that Sebastian would like Gemma – perhaps, she thought with a sly smile, he would even feel more than must a mere liking for her. Katrina, however, needed to be spoken with.  
  
Turning the corridor's corner, Ella stood before Katrina's boudoir. Taking a deep breath, she fixed a firm expression to her face and rapped against the door with her knuckles.  
  
"Come in!" Katrina's voice sounded from within, sounding refreshed even though it was early. Ella smiled; her daughter was always one to wake early. She entered the room, noticing that, as usual, everything was in its place. Katrina needed to be organized with all the weapons she had hidden inside her room. Ella knew there were several forbidden daggers lying somewhere – besides the one Katrina was permitted to have if she ever needed to defend herself and the guards, for some reason, weren't around.  
  
Daggers weren't the only things the princess had in stock. She had, to Ella's knowledge, two swords – one of which she never used. Ella was the only one, besides Sebastian, who knew of these detailed things. Katrina kept them a steely secret from everyone else, even her father, whom she knew wouldn't let it go as quickly as her brother, who was amused by it, and her mother, who pretended to know nothing.  
  
Katrina had to have several bows and hundreds of arrows in stock someplace or another, too...  
  
Ella positioned herself beside her daughter's four-poster bed, smiling good morning glibly. Katrina smiled back, but raised her eyebrows. "Alright, mother, what's the problem?" she asked with a sigh, flopping down on the bed.  
  
Ella straightened to her full height (which wasn't a very impressive gesture). "Katrina – your behavior one week ago was completely ridiculous."  
  
Katrina's jaw tightened. "If you mean the way I acted around Lady Gemma, mother", she said in a high pitched voice, "I was perfectly polite. I just didn't run to embrace her."  
  
Ella's eyes flashed. "You shunned her, as you used to do with Frederick! What is this behavior, Katrina?" Katrina paused, her eyes swiveling around the room. Usually, in an argument, Katrina locked eyes with her opponent – and stared them down. This trying-to-look-for-an-escape behavior was highly uncommon with the princess.  
  
"Alright, mother", Katrina said in a low, raspy voice. "I wasn't polite to her because you're deceased best friend was a... he was a magic user. You could say that he was a, well... a sorcerer." She coughed, and Ella's eyes widened in disbelief and fury. "You don't know what you speak o - "  
  
Katrina shot up on the bed. "He was! I saw it with my own two eyes. Yes, he was clever in the way he hid it, mother, but not clever enough for me – I question every person I cross paths with!" The princess leaped from the bed, coming to stand before her frozen mother. Ella noticed that her fists were clenched, shaking, at her sides.  
  
She was concerned for Katrina's health. There was wild gleam in the girl's eyes. "Lord Frederick was a sorcerer – and our new Lady, mother, is a _witch_!"  
  
Ella's lips tightened into a white, thin line – partly from fear for her daughter, and partly from anger at these rash accusations. Turning sharply on her heel, she quickly left the royal bedroom, heading down towards the kitchens – to Mandy. Mandy would know what was meddling with the princess.

Katrina took a deep breath, leaning her head against the cool wall. How could mother be so stupid? How could she not have noticed, at some point, the signs of a sorcerer exhibited by Lord Frederick?  
  
Katrina pulled her head back, brushing the hair from her eyes. She was glad that Ella had gone to confer with Mandy – for Mandy was fairy, and would assure the Queen that Katrina was perfectly _sane_, and _right_, and far _cleverer_ than she had ever been.  
  
Katrina was interrupted at her thoughts by a knock at the door. Heaving an exasperated snarl, she pounded the bed with her hand. Why did annoying servants or courtiers always bother her when her life didn't need the extra annoyance and trouble? Expecting a mere servant girl or messenger boy, the princess turned to open the door – carefully wiping her face blank.  
  
The blank face, she had learned from her dear friend Wayne, kept one safe from the emotional court gossip.  
  
Perhaps the figure at the door was even Wayne – one of the few people who would please her. There was just one topic that they did not see eye-to- eye on, and that was Lord Frederick – but the Lord was dead, and Wayne hadn't to know about the disturbing discussion she had just had with her mother.  
  
How surprised Katrina was when she didn't find an annoying servant or Wayne – not even her mother or Mandy. What she found was the person she least wanted to face now – or ever, for that matter: Prince Conrad.  
  
"Princess Katrina", he slithered, offering her his hand, "may I request the pleasure of your company for a moment? There is something important I would like to discuss with you."  
  
Katrina frowned at him, but exited her room – she didn't want to face her mother when she came back, and she knew that Conrad would catch her sooner or later. It was best to get the business over with now.Conrad smirked, hiding the expression from Katrina as they walked down the corridor together. Not only did he want:  
  
The woman keeping stride beside him The Power of ruling two kingdoms.  
  
No, there was a third, major component of Kyrria that he desired, and that was something his father had told him of when he was just a young boy, something of legend... a rare artifact that –  
  
"Conrad?" He snapped from his trance to find Princess Katrina staring at him with undisguised impatience, tapping her foot against the cool marble floor. Conrad looked at the simple wooden double doors before him, barely concealing a further smirk. Perfect. Just two guards down the hall, and he could deal with them and make it look like an accident if it was necessary. This was the perfect location for his proposal – and further action in order to convince the princess if necessary. The sitting room beyond the doors was informal and small – rarely used.  
  
He could count on no interruptions – too the end, whatever it would be. One thing was certain – he would have his bride. 


	6. Chapter Six: Fathers and Light

**Hi! I'm back, and I'm sorry I haven't updated in a while, but I was sick, yadda yadda. This is the last chappie I'm posting before I leave for camp in LA on Sunday, and I'll post more when I get back, in about two weeks. I hope you enjoy this chap, it's super long and literally took me ages. Thanks to Riley, fairlycertain, Kara, and mandy for reviewing chapter five!**

**mandy - Gemma's back in this chapter, fully fledged, along with Wayne, too, heehee. Enjoy!**

**Kara - I hope this chapter is less confusing for you. Quite a lot is explained, so that should tie up some loose ends! I'm glad you like it!**

**fairlycertain - lol, is everyone fooled by frederick, or did frederick just fool Gemma? muahaha, the suspense! glad you wanted me to update!**

**Riley - Thank-you! You're compliments are always a bright spot. I haven't been an fanfiction in a while, so I'll read your story as soon as possible and review it, of course! Hope you like this chappie!**

**Here goes:**

Chapter Six  
  
A harassed-looking Ella sped along the corridor, down a steep flight of marble steps, and into the front entrance of the palace kitchens.  
  
She grabbed a mug of mulled wine from one of the servants, and quickly gulped it down, scanning the busy room for Mandy.  
  
"Lady?" A broad hand set itself firmly, yet gently, on her shoulder. Mandy turned Ella around by the shoulders to face her. When she saw the princess's strained, pale features, she whipped a container of tonic from her apron, along with a wooden spoon.  
  
"Sit down, lass. What's afoot?" The cook attempted to keep her usual calm, but Ella's face was a tad frightening – very unusual. Ella grimaced at the taste of the tonic as it slithered down her throat, but her face did regain some of its original color.  
  
"Mandy, you need to speak with... with Katrina."

The fairy snorted. "What's the little missy gotten herself into now?"  
  
Ella shifted. "It's not like that", she said quietly, leaning closer to her godmother across the table. "This morning, she said something... completely out of the blue and unreasonable. I've never seen her like she was then – she looked half insane!"  
  
Mandy's eyebrows inched closer together into a tight frown. "And, pray tell, what was it our princess said?"  
  
Ella swallowed, surveying the room and wiping a kerchief across her sweat-soaked brow. Then, leaning in once more, she voiced the past event to Mandy. The cook, to Ella's surprise, didn't squawk about the foolhardiness of Katrina.  
  
Instead, Mandy leaned back in her seat, her frown changing to a look of deep thought and just a smidge of surprise. "That's... very interesting", she murmured quietly, gazing into the flames of the kitchen fire beyond their table. "Very interesting, indeed. I need to have a chat with our little mistress."

Gemma shifted impatiently. Eleanor had told her to wait in the courtyard at ten, and it was already half past. The Queen hadn't appeared.  
  
A biting wind swept through the courtyard, and Gemma couldn't help feeling a tiny shiver along the small of her back. The footman, waiting with her for the Queen's arrival, cast her a worried glance.  
  
"Are you cold, my Lady? Shall I have a second cloak sent for?"  
  
Gemma snapped her head up, surprised, still not used to the courtesy extended to her here. Smiling at the footman, she pulled her own cloak tighter around her body as dead leaves scattered with the wind by her feet.  
  
"No thanks, I'm fine."  
  
Maybe the Queen had been delayed because of her daughter. Perhaps Katrina was throwing a fit because she didn't want to be in Gemma's company. The thought of the princess thrashing around made Gemma snigger. If she didn't run into Katrina today, she would confront the princess about her odd behavior soon enough... "Lady Gemma?"  
  
For the second time that day, Gemma whipped her head around, startled, in the direction of her name. Her eyes landed on Wayne, sitting casually astride a chestnut mare. Her face lit up; she couldn't help herself. He was the only familiar person to her inside this enormous place. Feeling the scrutinizing gaze of the footman upon her, she dropped a quick curtsy, shooting Wayne a half-smile.  
  
"What brings you here?" he asked, easily swinging himself from the saddle. "Standing in the courtyard like a piece of stray baggage?"  
  
The last part was uttered too quietly for the footman to overhear, and elicited a piercing glare from Gemma. "I'm waiting for the Queen", she informed Wayne. It was just her luck – the only person she knew, besides the king, queen, and princess (whom hated her utterly), was a rude boy.  
  
A rather helpful rude boy, as it turned out to be. "Ella is occupied with Kat", Wayne said, a little grin creeping across his face. "Apparently, the princess had a slight problem this morning."  
  
Aha, with Kat he meant the princess. Gemma smiled bitterly. "More like temper tantrum, you mean", she remarked caustically. Wayne chuckled. "You didn't hear it from me."  
  
His eyes turned to the footman. "You can go, I'll escort her to the Queen, since the Queen herself is currently unable to be here." The footman looked relieved, and hurried off to warm his hands inside by some hot fire.  
  
Gemma shot Wayne a critical look. "I don't think her majesty will think highly of me if I just pop in on one of her daughter's little breakdowns."  
  
Wayne cocked his head. "Oh, that", he remarked. "No, I'm not taking you to the Queen yet. I'll show you the palace first. You know, give the royals some time to collect themselves. Besides, you haven't met Sebastian, have you?"  
  
Gemma raised her eyebrows. "Sebastian? I don't know any Sebastian's." Wayne sighed in mock exasperation. "I meant the prince. He's a wonderful laugh, when he's not around any of that stuffy high-society folk. Then, he's all formal, polite and stiff, like his father."  
  
Gemma sniggered at the irony – Wayne, Sebastian's best friend, was part of that stuffy, high-society folk himself. Well, perhaps not so stuffy. He only extended severe formalities around people they didn't know well. When he was alone with her, he seemed much more at ease...  
  
"Wayne, darling!" A high-pitched, girlish voice rang through the warm air of the corridor. Wayne's head snapped up, and his face paled. "Oh, cow shit on toast", he swore under his breath, earning a surprised look from Gemma. Without hesitation, he dashed around the corner and into a small, elaborately carved broom closet. The dry click of the door closing resounded through the air just as a beautiful, yellow-haired wench swept around the corner, flanked by two wasp-thin, pale, fashionably dressed ladies.  
  
She looked around her imperiously, and her gaze fell on Gemma. She raised her perfect brows. Here was a girl, obviously titled and rich, as one could tell from her apparel, that she had _never_ seen before. How could this be? Had this wench possibly been with her fiancée? Perhaps they were secretly involved, and that was why she had never had a glimpse of the strange girl before...  
  
Oh, well. She would lure the girl's secrets from her, in time. For now, she would just have to be plaintively sweet. Sweeping a graceful curtsy, Lady Alicia smiled at the girl before her.  
  
"Good day, Lady", she simpered, her voice practically dripping with honey. "I'm Alicia of the Stokes estate. I've been part of Frell's high society all my life, and I've known all it's important young ladies." Here, she paused in order to give the girl a chance at introducing herself. The lass said nothing, only looked at her steadily, one eyebrow slightly arched. An uncertain smile tugged at the corners of the girl's rosy lips.  
  
Wayne, hearing every word through the paper-thin walls of the closet, rolled his eyes in disgust. Alicia's introduction was so like herself – sickly sweet and snobby.  
  
"It seems we haven't met, however", Alicia rounded off her speech. Gemma dropped the tiniest curtsy, liking Alicia less and less by the second. 

"Gemma of Eldred. Pleased to make your acquaintance." At those words, she couldn't keep her sardonic smile from growing just the tiniest of bits. Wayne, still pressing his perspiring backside against the closet wall, noticed the twinge of sarcasm in Gemma's lilting voice.  
  
Alicia widened her large, blue eyes. "Of Eldred?" A tinkling laugh escaped her throat. "You are the daughter of Lord Frederick!" She poked Gemma in the chest when she said 'You'. "Oh, he was such a charming old man." Turning to her two sidekicks, she giggled. "Remember that deep, rich voice he had? And those rogue-like green eyes..." she heaved a melodramatic sigh, batting her long lashes at the spotless marble ceiling. Gemma widened her own eyes in disgust. Was the girl seriously speaking of her father in a, well, _flirtatious_ manner?  
  
"It's been a pleasure meeting you, darling. I'm actually in search of my fiancée, I thought I heard his voice along this corridor." With these words, she threw a half pout-y, half suspicious look around the hall. "You haven't seen him, have you, darling?"  
  
Wincing at her new pet name, Gemma innocently eyed the girl before her, widening her own eyes. "Oh, no. I just lost my footman, who was escorting me to see the Queen. I haven't had a run in with anyone." Then, Alicia's words registered, and she had trouble suppressing shock. This morbid creature was marrying Wayne? Not that it mattered to her, of course.  
  
But – mischievous, at times helpful (she admitted this to herself grudgingly), sometimes interesting (she also admitted this to herself grudgingly) Wayne? They were no match, as far as she was concerned.  
  
Her thoughts were interrupted as Alicia curtseyed to her once more. "Darling, it's been wonderful meeting you. I simply must spend some more time with you – in fact, I'm quite taken with you. Might I meet up with you? I'll send a messenger as soon as a I have a spare moment."  
  
Laughing one last time, Alicia disappeared around the corner, leaving a groaning Gemma behind. She didn't think she could bear one hour in the company of Alicia... Wayne had a _lot_ to make up for.  
  
She glared at him as he stepped from the closet. "Firstly, you owe me big time. Thanks to _you_, I will now be forced to spend numerous hours in her company! Secondly, why didn't you mention that you had a - "  
  
Wayne cut her off. "Gemma", he said, more serious than she'd heard him, "A few hours is nothing compared to a life time. I'm marrying Lady Alicia, remember?" He sighed, and suddenly his face lost its light, carefree expression.  
  
Gemma wasn't an idiot, and it wasn't hard to see that Wayne wasn't marrying Alicia for love. "It's obvious you're not interested in a marriage with her, so why marry her?" she questioned frankly. "You're noble, you can marry whoever you want."  
  
Wayne's face grew expressionless. All the humor and fun had whooshed right out of him. "I'm marrying her for my family. They were crushed after my Father's death, and me marrying Alicia will make them happy again – it'll give them the girl they love..." _although I can't imagine why someone would love her_, he added silently to himself, "...and more wealth. It's been hard; father's duties to the crown were well paid. With just me left, the pay's been cut in half..." he drifted off, and Gemma wondered if he regretted telling her that much.  
  
"I'm sorry about your father. I didn't know he was dead." It was the only thing she could think of to say. Wayne looked surprised. "Didn't you? My father was great friends with yours, and he died defending Frederick."  
  
Gemma stared at him. "Defending my father from what?"

Wayne shook his head, black locks flying. "Don't you know anything? Hasn't anyone told you about the men who were after your father, and tried to kill him?"

At Gemma's blank stare, he frowned in confusion, and proceded. "Frederick returned home several times in the weeks before the assassin attempt to find his private rooms in a mess, and searched. He used his means of protecting his possessions, but the men who stood against your father returned at least three times. Then, one night on a full moon, your father went out for a ride, unaccompanied. My father had watched him do so, several times, and finally followed Frederick into the forest out of fear for his friend, and concern." As if to defend his father's honor, Wayne quickly added, "he didn't mean to be nosy, and Frederick's life was saved that night by my father. The assassins trailed your father into the forest, and overran him there. Perhaps you've heard that your father was a skilled swordsman, although if no one has told you so, I'm not surprised. You don't seem to know much of him at all."  
  
He gave Gemma a sideways glance. "A mysterious relationship between you and father, Gemma." She bit her lip and motioned for him to continue. With a sigh, he did so.

"Frederick killed several of his opponents on the spot, but he was hopelessly outnumbered. Just as the hooded men were about to overrun him, my father stepped in. They fought together, side by side." Wayne grinned, but it wasn't merry. There was a streak of sadness woven into the corners of his mouth. "Our fathers trained together often as swordsmen. You're father taught me quite a bit with the blade."  
  
Gemma knew that this tale had a sad ending, but she was stricken nonetheless.

"It looks as though they were close friends", she murmured softly as they turned into a narrow corridor. "Please, I'd like to hear the rest, Wayne."  
  
"My father was attacked from the back while blocking a fatal blow aimed at your father's throat." Wayne's upper lip was sporting tiny pearls of cold sweat; Gemma noticed. He took a deep breath, staring unseeingly into the air before him. Gemma nudged him. "You can finish telling me the tale another day. It's... hard on you", she reflected, something that was surprisingly difficult to say to him. Wayne shook his head, large green eyes riveted on her face. "It's not just my tale. It's yours, too. Frederick was your father, and you have a right above anyone else to know this."  
  
"My father fell at Frederick's feet, and Frederick finished off the last of them in his sadness and anger. Three weeks later, the assassins killed Frederick, too. He had no one by his side, then, and the opponent's number was even greater."

Gemma had learned not to care for her father in the past four years, and she didn't care much that he was dead. But now, she felt a twinge of sadness. Her father had fought side by side with such a good man. Had he truly been the vile creature she'd thought him to be?  
  
"You don't seem very grieved." Wayne's voice penetrated her thoughts. For the first time, she didn't glare at him, or scowl, or speak to him with sarcasm or irony in her voice. "I am grieved, for your father. He died honorably, and seems to have been, well... a wonderful person." A full smile lit her face, and Wayne felt his skin grow a tinge warmer.  
  
Gemma's smile melted away. "In accord to my own father, I stopped truly knowing him almost four years ago."

Wayne shook his head. "The mysterious father-daughter relationship." Seeing her closed face, he put up his hand. "You needn't say anything now, but I'll wager that, one day, you'll explain it all to me."  
  
Perhaps she would tell him about how her father had deserted the family – once she had answers as to why.  
  
"You know", Wayne told her thoughtfully, "right before my father died, he told me something strange."  
  
Gemma raised her brows, a bit of her old self back in her voice. "That's surprising. Everything else about their circumstances seemed _perfectly_ normal."  
  
"No, really." A breeze, scented of autumn rain, blew through a small open window of colored glass. "He grasped my hand, telling me how gloriously his best friend finished off the last of the opponents. Not with the sword, he proclaimed, but with his... hands."  
  
"He strangled them? I didn't know he was skilled at hand-to-hand combat, too", Gemma threw in wryly.  
  
"Not like that", Wayne muttered. "He had light in his hands, my father said. 'He defeated them with the light', were his exact words."

Gemma was quiet only for a minute. "Fire, maybe", she volunteered. Wayne frowned at her. "No, Lady Gemma. Pure light."  
  
She had nothing to say to that. It seemed impossible, and perhaps Wayne's father had been hallucinating. He had been near death... when she mentioned this idea to Wayne, he muttered darkly. "No. I looked into my father's face, then, and what I saw was pure, true awe – not a dying man's madness..."

They drifted off into wondering, almost peaceful silence, until a girl's voice shattered the quiet.  
  
"...Stand on the highest balcony in this palace and scream to the entire kingdom what you did to me, and you will die..." a raspy cough followed, and then a husky chuckle. Wayne stood frozen in the center of the corridor; hand on the hilt of his dagger. "Kat", he croaked. "Gemma, I think that's Kat... someone's in there with her." Moments later, his suspicions were confirmed.  
  
"My little princess – is your brother's life not important to you?"  
  
Wayne grabbed Gemma's hand with such force that she yelped, and pushed her against the opposite wall. "Stay here, I'll deal with this man", he snarled, sliding his dagger from its sheath. Grabbing the door handle, he yanked on it with all of his strength. It didn't budge. He threw himself against it, slammed his foot into the surface – nothing. From inside, there was the sound of a last choke, then the thump of something hitting the ground. A man's cold chuckle filled the air...  
  
And Gemma's throat tightened, not from tears, but from a burning anger, welling up inside her. She felt that she was in a familiar presence, and she wanted revenge, for what, she wasn't certain, but she wanted to crush, to tear... the sensation of anger crashed against her abdomen, making her double over in pain. She clenched her fists, feeling the burning adrenaline energy of her desire for vengeance flow from her abdomen to her stomach, threading its way around her belly-button, shooting straight up her chest, through her throat – that stage was painful, she gasped, longing for the familiar, cool air to ease the fire, and then relented as the pain began to ebb away – the hot sensation was spreading past her shoulders, down her arms – through her blood veins, making the red liquid boil. Raising her arms instinctively up from the wall, she brought them together before her as the fiery energy poured into her hands, making her fingers bulge. The skin on her hands felt raw, as if it were about to burst... and then, it did, making her scream her pain to the cold evening air. Staring in half horror, half fascination down at her hands, she nearly screamed again – they were filled with a vibrant, pure green light, but the pain was relinquishing its terrifying hold on her. She was dimly aware of Wayne staring at her, his lips formed her name, and she thought she heard the phrase; "Just like your father" escape his mouth...  
  
Barely considering her next action, she brought her fists to rest against the lock, and for one moment, she felt almost calm – secure, in control. _Powerful._  
  
She shoved the light through the lock, shattering it. The impact sent her reeling back against the opposite wall – someone's hand snaked around her arm, forcing her to stay on her feet.  
  
The light's purpose was done, and it seeped back into her hands, leaving the skin unblemished, unmarked. She felt it receding, moving back through her arms, shoulders... past her chest, back to just below her bellybutton. She felt suddenly very light, and extremely air-headed. Her skull seemed to be filled with fluff, and she couldn't keep upright, nor think straight... she seemed to be slipping...  
  
Meanwhile, Wayne, forcing his shock back, stormed into the room, setting his dagger at an unprepared Prince Conrad's throat. The green light bursting through the door, causing the floor and ceiling alike to tremble, had been enough to temporarily distract the Chitin Prince. Now, blazing green eyes were boring into his face, flush with hatred.  
  
"I would slit your throat, _Conrad_, if there wasn't peace between our countries to uphold and if I didn't want you to explain the reason for _this_ - " he spit the word, jerking his head in the direction of Princess Katrina's slumped figure "– first."  
  
Not a centimeter of fear flickered over Conrad's face – just a smidge of uncertainty, and a great deal of smugness. "Your little friend responded very rudely to my generous offer. She upset my honor."  
  
Wayne tightened the blade. "_Honor_? Choking a princess who refuses your marriage proposal and dissatisfies your greed? If that's honor, I'm pink toad", he spat. The prince had the grace to look lightly surprised. Wayne only pressed him against the wall. "Wipe that stupid look off your face, you perverted, twisted... too long have you watched Katrina! I've known you've had marriage on your mind for weeks, you slimy grit. I'm taking this matter to their majesties – _all_ of them, and I'm taking the princess with me. She will be closely guarded, and if I ever see you so much as watching her _shadow_ again, I will beg to have you locked up myself!"  
  
Conrad smirked. "If you or the wench in the corner talk at all, you'll be taken for senile." The smirk turned to a sneer. "The princess remembers nothing of the last hour. In order to frame me, you'll need her to testify, and since she won't remember our moment together, you and pretty green-eyes will be taken for crazy. We'll see who's locked up then."  
  
Masking his amazement at all the strange power surrounding him – first Gemma, with light in her hands just like her father, except this light was as green as her own eyes, and then Prince Conrad, with something inside him Wayne couldn't even begin to understand – Wayne eyed Conrad with cold venom.  
  
"If you've removed the princess's memory as boldly as you claim, why not do the same with me and the Lady?" he questioned, his voice icy.  
  
Something flickered in Conrad's eyes, contempt and annoyance. His gaze swept from Wayne to Gemma, her head slumped back against the wall, eyes closed, and back to Wayne. "You are fortunate this time. The wench has her defenses, and they cover you. When we meet again, the circumstances you are in may not be so fortunate as now."  
  
Wayne couldn't believe this. He stood here, protected by a green light of power, with his dagger at a villain's throat, and couldn't do anything, or see that anything was done, as punishment. Perhaps Gemma, with her light, would be able to reverse what Conrad had done to Katrina's memory... keeping his dagger at Conrad's throat, Wayne hoisted Katrina over his shoulder – as simple feat, she was very small. "I will leave this room now. If it takes me years, I will prove what you've done."  
  
No emotion betrayed Conrad's expressionless face, but the pure hatred boring into his face from the young man's eyes would later come back to him on sleepless nights, leaving him not undaunted.  
  
Sliding his dagger back into its sheath, Wayne turned sharply on his heal and made his way to the wall, where he shook Gemma's shoulder. Numbly, she got to her feet, wobbled, and nearly collapsed again. Wayne clamped his hand firmly around her upper arm, steering her quickly from the room.

She turned her head to catch a last glimpse of Conrad, and her face muscles turned taught, her lips white, and her eyes blazed with revenge and hatred. The image bore such a striking resemblance to one Conrad knew, and had sent his men to destroy - the Lord Frederick, just months before.


	7. Chapter Six: Fathers and Light

**Hey! **

**The oddest thing happened to me. I posted this chap on fanfiction yesterday, and today I went to the sight, and my new chap was w/ the story. Then, later, I went to the site again, and the new chappie was gone! In fact, everything on the Ella Enchanted page was as it was a couple of days ago... it like rewinded or something! So now, I'm posting this chap a second time - I'm determined to get it up for you guys before I leave for camp in LA tomorrow. Many thanks to Mandy, Fairlycertain, Riley, and Kara for the encouraging reviews! Gemma is back in this chappie, along w/ Wayne. I lot is explained, so the story will be less confusing (I hope). Alright, read on, and enjoy!**

Chapter Six  
  
A harassed-looking Ella sped along the corridor, down a steep flight of marble steps, and into the front entrance of the palace kitchens.  
  
She grabbed a mug of mulled wine from one of the servants, and quickly gulped it down, scanning the busy room for Mandy.  
  
"Lady?" A broad hand set itself firmly, yet gently, on her shoulder. Mandy turned Ella around by the shoulders to face her. When she saw the princess's strained, pale features, she whipped a container of tonic from her apron, along with a wooden spoon.  
  
"Sit down, lass. What's afoot?" The cook attempted to keep her usual calm, but Ella's face was a tad frightening – very unusual. Ella grimaced at the taste of the tonic as it slithered down her throat, but her face did regain some of its original color.  
  
"Mandy, you need to speak with... with Katrina." The fairy snorted. "What's the little missy gotten herself into now?"  
  
Ella shifted. "It's not like that", she said quietly, leaning closer to her godmother across the table. "This morning, she said something... completely out of the blue and unreasonable. I've never seen her like she was then – she looked half insane!"  
  
Mandy's eyebrows inched closer together into a tight frown. "And, pray tell, what was it our princess said?"  
  
Ella swallowed, surveying the room and wiping a kerchief across her sweat-soaked brow. Then, leaning in once more, she voiced the past event to Mandy. The cook, to Ella's surprise, didn't squawk about the foolhardiness of Katrina.  
  
Instead, Mandy leaned back in her seat, her frown changing to a look of deep thought and just a smidge of surprise. "That's... very interesting", she murmured quietly, gazing into the flames of the kitchen fire beyond their table. "Very interesting, indeed. I need to have a chat with our little mistress."  
  
Gemma shifted impatiently. Eleanor had told her to wait in the courtyard at ten, and it was already half past. The Queen hadn't appeared.  
  
A biting wind swept through the courtyard, and Gemma couldn't help feeling a tiny shiver along the small of her back. The footman, waiting with her for the Queen's arrival, cast her a worried glance.  
  
"Are you cold, my Lady? Shall I have a second cloak sent for?"  
  
Gemma snapped her head up, surprised, still not used to the courtesy extended to her here. Smiling at the footman, she pulled her own cloak tighter around her body as dead leaves scattered with the wind by her feet.  
  
"No thanks, I'm fine."  
  
Maybe the Queen had been delayed because of her daughter. Perhaps Katrina was throwing a fit because she didn't want to be in Gemma's company. The thought of the princess thrashing around made Gemma snigger. If she didn't run into Katrina today, she would confront the princess about her odd behavior soon enough... "Lady Gemma?"  
  
For the second time that day, Gemma whipped her head around, startled, in the direction of her name. Her eyes landed on Wayne, sitting casually astride a chestnut mare. Her face lit up; she couldn't help herself. He was the only familiar person to her inside this enormous place. Feeling the scrutinizing gaze of the footman upon her, she dropped a quick curtsy, shooting Wayne a half-smile.  
  
"What brings you here?" he asked, easily swinging himself from the saddle. "Standing in the courtyard like a piece of stray baggage?"  
  
The last part was uttered too quietly for the footman to overhear, and elicited a piercing glare from Gemma. "I'm waiting for the Queen", she informed Wayne. It was just her luck – the only person she knew, besides the king, queen, and princess (whom hated her utterly), was a rude boy.  
  
A rather helpful rude boy, as it turned out to be. "Ella is occupied with Kat", Wayne said, a little grin creeping across his face. "Apparently, the princess had a slight problem this morning."  
  
Aha, with Kat he meant the princess. Gemma smiled bitterly. "More like temper tantrum, you mean", she remarked caustically. Wayne chuckled. "You didn't hear it from me."  
  
His eyes turned to the footman. "You can go, I'll escort her to the Queen, since the Queen herself is currently unable to be here." The footman looked relieved, and hurried off to warm his hands inside by some hot fire.  
  
Gemma shot Wayne a critical look. "I don't think her majesty will think highly of me if I just pop in on one of her daughter's little breakdowns."  
  
Wayne cocked his head. "Oh, that", he remarked. "No, I'm not taking you to the Queen yet. I'll show you the palace first. You know, give the royals some time to collect themselves. Besides, you haven't met Sebastian, have you?"  
  
Gemma raised her eyebrows. "Sebastian? I don't know any Sebastian's." Wayne sighed in mock exasperation. "I meant the prince. He's a wonderful laugh, when he's not around any of that stuffy high-society folk. Then, he's all formal, polite and stiff, like his father."  
  
Gemma sniggered at the irony – Wayne, Sebastian's best friend, was part of that stuffy, high-society folk himself. Well, perhaps not so stuffy. He only extended severe formalities around people they didn't know well. When he was alone with her, he seemed much more at ease...  
  
"Wayne, darling!" A high-pitched, girlish voice rang through the warm air of the corridor. Wayne's head snapped up, and his face paled. "Oh, cow shit on toast", he swore under his breath, earning a surprised look from Gemma. Without hesitation, he dashed around the corner and into a small, elaborately carved broom closet. The dry click of the door closing resounded through the air just as a beautiful, yellow-haired wench swept around the corner, flanked by two wasp-thin, pale, fashionably dressed ladies.  
  
She looked around her imperiously, and her gaze fell on Gemma. She raised her perfect brows. Here was a girl, obviously titled and rich, as one could tell from her apparel, that she had _never_ seen before. How could this be? Had this wench possibly been with her fiancée? Perhaps they were secretly involved, and that was why she had never had a glimpse of the strange girl before...  
  
Oh, well. She would lure the girl's secrets from her, in time. For now, she would just have to be plaintively sweet. Sweeping a graceful curtsy, Lady Alicia smiled at the girl before her.  
  
"Good day, Lady", she simpered, her voice practically dripping with honey. "I'm Alicia of the Stokes estate. I've been part of Frell's high society all my life, and I've known all it's important young ladies." Here, she paused in order to give the girl a chance at introducing herself. The lass said nothing, only looked at her steadily, one eyebrow slightly arched. An uncertain smile tugged at the corners of the girl's rosy lips.  
  
Wayne, hearing every word through the paper-thin walls of the closet, rolled his eyes in disgust. Alicia's introduction was so like herself – sickly sweet and snobby.  
  
"It seems we haven't met, however", Alicia rounded off her speech. Gemma dropped the tiniest curtsy, liking Alicia less and less by the second.

"Gemma of Eldred. Pleased to make your acquaintance." At those words, she couldn't keep her sardonic smile from growing just the tiniest of bits. Wayne, still pressing his perspiring backside against the closet wall, noticed the twinge of sarcasm in Gemma's lilting voice.  
  
Alicia widened her large, blue eyes. "Of Eldred?" A tinkling laugh escaped her throat. "_You_ are the daughter of Lord Frederick!" She poked Gemma in the chest when she said 'You'. "Oh, he was such a charming old man." Turning to her two sidekicks, she giggled. "Remember that deep, rich voice he had? And those rogue-like green eyes..." she heaved a melodramatic sigh, batting her long lashes at the spotless marble ceiling. Gemma widened her own eyes in disgust. Was the girl seriously speaking of her father in a, well, flirtatious manner?  
  
"It's been a pleasure meeting you, darling. I'm actually in search of my fiancée, I thought I heard his voice along this corridor." With these words, she threw a half pout-y, half suspicious look around the hall. "You haven't seen him, have you, darling?"  
  
Wincing at her new pet name, Gemma innocently eyed the girl before her, widening her own eyes. "Oh, no. I just lost my footman, who was escorting me to see the Queen. I haven't had a run in with anyone." Then, Alicia's words registered, and she had trouble suppressing shock. This morbid creature was marrying _Wayne_? Not that it mattered to her, of course.  
  
But – mischievous, at times helpful (she admitted this to herself grudgingly), sometimes interesting (she also admitted this to herself grudgingly) Wayne? They were no match, as far as she was concerned.  
  
Her thoughts were interrupted as Alicia curtseyed to her once more. "Darling, it's been wonderful meeting you. I simply_ must_ spend some more time with you – in fact, I'm quite taken with you. Might I meet up with you? I'll send a messenger as soon as a I have a spare moment."  
  
Laughing one last time, Alicia disappeared around the corner, leaving a groaning Gemma behind. She didn't think she could bear one hour in the company of Alicia... Wayne had a lot to make up for.  
  
She glared at him as he stepped from the closet. "Firstly, you owe me big time. Thanks to _you_, I will now be forced to spend numerous hours in her company! Secondly, why didn't you mention that you had a - "  
  
Wayne cut her off. "Gemma", he said, more serious than she'd heard him, "A few hours is nothing compared to a life time. I'm marrying Lady Alicia, remember?" He sighed, and suddenly his face lost its light, carefree expression.  
  
Gemma wasn't an idiot, and it wasn't hard to see that Wayne wasn't marrying Alicia for love. "It's obvious you're not interested in a marriage with her, so why marry her?" she questioned frankly. "You're noble, you can marry whoever you want."  
  
Wayne's face grew expressionless. All the humor and fun had whooshed right out of him. "I'm marrying her for my family. They were crushed after my Father's death, and me marrying Alicia will make them happy again – it'll give them the girl they love..." _although I can't imagine why someone would love her_, he added silently to himself, "...and more wealth. It's been hard; father's duties to the crown were well paid. With just me left, the pay's been cut in half..." he drifted off, and Gemma wondered if her regretted telling her that much.  
  
"I'm sorry about your father. I didn't know he was dead." It was the only thing she could think of to say. Wayne looked surprised. "Didn't you? My father was great friends with yours, and he died defending Frederick."  
  
Gemma stared at him. "Defending my father from what?"

Wayne shook his head, black locks flying. "Don't you know anything? Hasn't anyone told you about the men who were after your father, and tried to kill him?" When Gemma just threw her hands in the air from exasperation, making it clear she had no idea what he was talking about, Wayne began the tale.

" Frederick returned home several times in the weeks before the assassin attempt to find his private rooms in a mess, and searched. He used his means of protecting his possessions, but the men who stood against your father returned at least three times. Then, one night on a full moon, your father went out for a ride, unaccompanied. My father had watched him do so, several times, and finally followed Frederick into the forest out of fear for his friend, and concern." As if to defend his father's honor, Wayne quickly added, "he didn't mean to be nosy, and Frederick's life was saved that night by my father.

"The assassins trailed your father into the forest, and overran him there. Perhaps you've heard that your father was a skilled swordsman, although if no one has told you so, I'm not surprised. You don't seem to know much of him at all."  
  
He gave Gemma a sideways glance. "A mysterious relationship between you and father, Gemma." She bit her lip and motioned for him to continue. With a sigh, he did so.

"Frederick killed several of his opponents on the spot, but he was hopelessly outnumbered. Just as the hooded men were about to overrun him, my father stepped in. They fought together, side by side." Wayne grinned, but it wasn't merry. There was a streak of sadness woven into the corners of his mouth. "Our fathers trained together often as swordsmen. You're father taught me quite a bit with the blade."  
  
Gemma knew this tale had a sad ending, but she was stricken nonetheless. "It looks as though they were close friends", she murmured softly as they turned into a narrow corridor. "Please, I'd like to hear the rest."  
  
"My father was attacked from the back while blocking a fatal blow aimed at your father's throat." Wayne's upper lip was sporting tiny pearls of cold sweat; Gemma noticed. He took a deep breath, staring unseeingly into the air before him. Gemma nudged him. "You can finish telling me the tale another day. It's... hard on you", she reflected, something that was surprisingly difficult to say to him. Wayne shook his head, large green eyes riveted on her face. "It's not just my tale. It's yours, too. Frederick was your father, and you have a right above anyone else to know this."  
  
"My father fell at Frederick's feet, and Frederick finished off the last of them in his sadness and anger. Three weeks later, the assassins killed Frederick, too. He had no one by his side, then, and their number was even greater." Gemma had learned not to care for her father in the past four years, and she didn't care much that he was dead. But now, she felt a twinge of sadness. Her father had fought side by side with such a good man. Had he truly been the vile creature she'd thought him to be?  
  
"You don't seem very grieved." Wayne's voice penetrated her thoughts. For the first time, she didn't glare at him, or scowl, or speak to him with sarcasm or irony in her voice. "I am grieved, for your father. He died honorably, and seems to have been, well... a wonderful person." A full smile lit her face, and Wayne felt his skin grow a tinge warmer.  
  
Gemma's smile melted away. "In accord to my own father, I stopped truly knowing him almost four years ago."

Wayne shook his head. "The mysterious father-daughter relationship." Seeing her closed face, he put up his hand. "You needn't say anything now, but I'll wager that, one day, you'll explain it to me."  
  
Perhaps she would tell him how her father had deserted the family – once she had answers as to why.  
  
"You know", Wayne told her thoughtfully, "right before my father died, he told me something strange."  
  
Gemma raised her brows, a bit of her old self back in her voice. "That's surprising. Everything else about their circumstances seems to have been _perfectly_ normal."  
  
"No, really." A breeze, scented of autumn rain, blew through a small open window of colored glass. "He grasped my hand, telling me how gloriously his best friend finished off the last of the opponents. Not with the sword, he proclaimed, but with his... hands."  
  
"He strangled them? I didn't know he was skilled at hand-to-hand combat, too", Gemma threw in wryly.  
  
"Not like that", Wayne muttered. "He had light in his hands, my father said. 'He defeated them with the light', were his exact words." Gemma was quiet only for a minute. "Fire, maybe", she volunteered. Wayne frowned at her. "No, Lady Gemma. Pure light."  
  
She had nothing to say to that. It seemed impossible, and perhaps Wayne's father had been hallucinating. He had been near death... when she mentioned this idea to Wayne, he muttered darkly. "No. I looked into my father's face, then, and what I saw was pure, true awe – not a dying man's madness..." They drifted off into wondering, almost peaceful silence, until a girl's voice shattered the quiet.  
  
"...Stand on the highest balcony in this palace and scream to the entire kingdom what you did to me..." a raspy cough followed, and then a husky chuckle. Wayne stood frozen in the center of the corridor; hand on the hilt of his dagger. "Kat", he croaked. "Gemma, I think that's Kat... someone's in there with her." Moments later, his suspicions were confirmed.  
  
"My little princess – is your brother's life not important to you?"  
  
Wayne grabbed Gemma's hand with such force that she yelped, and pushed her against the opposite wall. "Stay here, I'll deal with this man", he snarled, sliding his dagger from its sheath. Grabbing the door handle, he yanked on it with all of his strength. It didn't budge. He threw himself against it, slammed his foot into the surface – nothing. From inside, there was the sound of a last choke, then the thump of something hitting the ground. A man's cold chuckle filled the air...  
  
And Gemma's throat tightened, not from tears, but from a burning anger, welling up inside her. She felt that she was in a familiar presence, and she wanted revenge, for what, she wasn't certain, but she wanted to crush, to tear... the sensation of anger crashed against her abdomen, making her double over in pain. She clenched her fists, feeling the burning adrenaline energy of her desire for vengeance flow from her abdomen to her stomach, threading its way around her belly-button, shooting straight up her chest, through her throat – that stage was painful, she gasped, longing for the familiar, cool air to ease the fire, and then relented as the pain began to ebb away – the hot sensation was spreading past her shoulders, down her arms – through her blood veins, making the red liquid boil. Raising her arms instinctively up from the wall, she brought them together before her as the fiery energy poured into her hands, making her fingers bulge. The skin on her hands felt raw, as if it were about to burst... and then, it did, making her scream her pain to the cold evening air. Staring in half horror, half fascination down at her hands, she nearly screamed again – they were filled with a vibrant, pure green light, but the pain was relinquishing its terrifying hold on her. She was dimly aware of Wayne staring at her, his lips formed her name, and she thought she heard the phrase; "Just like your father" escape his mouth...  
  
Barely considering her next action, she brought her fists to rest against the lock, and for one moment, she felt almost calm – secure, in control. _Powerful._  
  
She shoved the light through the lock, shattering it. The impact sent her reeling back against the opposite wall – someone's hand snaked around her arm, forcing her to stay on her feet.  
  
The light's purpose was done, and it seeped back into her hands, leaving the skin unblemished, unmarked. She felt _it_ receding, moving back through her arms, shoulders... past her chest, back to just below her bellybutton. She felt suddenly very light, and extremely air-headed. Her skull seemed to be filled with fluff, and she couldn't keep upright, nor think straight... she seemed to be slipping...  
  
Meanwhile, Wayne, forcing his shock back and stormed into the room, setting his dagger at an unprepared Prince Conrad's throat. The green light bursting through the door, causing the floor and ceiling alike to tremble, had been enough to temporarily distract the Chitin Prince. Now, blazing green eyes were boring into his face, flush with hatred.  
  
"I would slit your throat, Conrad, if there wasn't peace between our countries to uphold and if I didn't want you to explain the reason for _this_ - " he spit the word, jerking his head in the direction of Princess Katrina's slumped figure "– first."  
  
Not a centimeter of fear flickered over Conrad's face – just a smidge of uncertainty, and a great deal of smugness. "Your little friend responded very rudely to my generous offer. She upset my honor."  
  
Wayne tightened the blade. "_Honor_? Choking a princess who refuses your marriage proposal and dissatisfies your greed? If that's honor, I'm pink toad", he spat. The prince had the grace to look lightly surprised. Wayne only pressed him against the wall. "Wipe that stupid look off your face, you perverted, twisted... too long have you watched Katrina! I've known you've had marriage on your mind for weeks, you slimy grit. I'm taking this matter to their majesties – all of them, and I'm taking the princess with me. She will be closely guarded, and if I ever see you so much as watching her _shadow_ again, I will beg to have you locked up myself!"  
  
Conrad smirked. "If you or the wench in the corner talk at all, you'll be taken for senile." The smirk turned to a sneer. "The princess remembers nothing of the last hour. In order to frame me, you'll need her to testify, and since she won't remember our moment together, you and pretty green-eyes will be taken for crazy. We'll see who's locked up then."  
  
Masking his amazement at all the strange power surrounding him – first Gemma, with light in her hands just like her father, except this light was as green as her own eyes, and then Prince Conrad, with something inside him Wayne couldn't even begin to understand – Wayne eyed Conrad with cold venom.  
  
"If you've removed the princess's memory as boldly as you claim, why not do the same with me and the Lady?" he questioned, his voice icy.  
  
Something flickered in Conrad's eyes, contempt and annoyance. His gaze swept from Wayne to Gemma, her head slumped back against the wall, eyes closed, and back to Wayne. "You are fortunate this time. The wench has her defenses, and they cover you. When we meet again, the circumstances you'll be in may not be so fortunate as now."  
  
Wayne couldn't believe this. He stood here, protected by a green light of power, with his dagger at a villain's throat, and couldn't do anything, or see that anything was done, as punishment. Perhaps Gemma, with her light, would be able to reverse what Conrad had done to Katrina's memory... keeping his dagger at Conrad's throat, Wayne hoisted Katrina over his shoulder – a simple feat, she was very small.

No emotion betrayed Conrad's expressionless face, but the pure hatred boring into his face from the young man's eyes would later come back to him on sleepless nights, leaving him not undaunted.  
  
Sliding his dagger back into its sheath, Wayne turned sharply on his heal and made his way to the wall, where he shook Gemma's shoulder. Numbly, she got to her feet, wobbled, and nearly collapsed again. Wayne clamped his hand firmly around her upper arm, steering her quickly from the room.

Conrad was about to turn away, but stopped when the girl swiveled her head around to stare at him. Gemma felt a tug at her insides, this man was familiar to her - he had broken something inside her life, and she could barely place her finger on what it was. Her befuddled mind kept leading her back to her father, but she was too exhausted to draw any sort of conclusion.

Not only Gemma felt a tug of familiarity. Conrad knew that face staring hatred at him, at was the slender, deep brown-haired version of a man's face whom he had sent his men to kill, weeks ago. The large, green eyes in that face unsettled him - they were identical to the powerful sorcerers', and held a power to match the dead Lord Frederick's, too - perhaps even Conrad's own. It wasn't just that which un-nerved the Chitin Prince. Like the lad's eyes, these green orbs promised vengeance, with a force behind the feeling that threw Conrad.

He didn't assume that the sorcerer's daughter, nor the man, would utter as much as a tone to the monarchs about his excursion with the princess. They would take some course of action, that was clear, but their move would take time - and give him the time he needed to crush the Lady and reach the princess - and the further object Conrad desired.

**I'm so glad I finally got this chappie done! I really, really hope you guys enjoyed reading it. I'll post Chapter Seven when I get back from LA - it should be up in about two weeks. Ok, please, please R&R? For me? Please with a pretty cherry on top? ::puppy eyes::**


	8. Chapter Seven

_Chapter Seven_

She could barely remember how she reached the manor. All she recalled came in little scraps – Wayne turning Katrina over to her chamber maid, telling the girl a monstrous lie about the princesses condition. Wayne tugging her into a carriage, and Wayne nearly dragging her up the manor steps, where a very concerned Rebecca had greeted them. She remembered Rebecca flashing Wayne an angry look, thinking that he'd harmed Gemma in some way – before Gemma had blearily assured the maid that she'd felt nauseous from lack of food, and that Wayne had been so kind as to escort her back to the Delran manor.

She'd been pushed up the stairs by a fussy Rebecca, been tucked into bed by a fussy Rebecca, and had platters of food heaped upon her by an even fussier Rebecca... and then, she had fallen into a heavy, dreamless sleep.

When she awoke, she had a splitting migraine and was forced to call for Rebecca, who immediately shoved some herbal medicine down her throat – medicine so disgusting that it nearly came back up in a slimy green mess.

Now, she was softly shaken awake, by – guess who – Rebecca, of course. The sun was high in the sky – it looked to be about noon. Gemma, with assistance from Rebecca, slowly sat up in bed, her back padded by several fat cushions. She shot a questioning look at Rebecca.

"Lady Gemma, you have a visitor", she voiced, giving the girl in bed a lusty wink. "A fine morsel of manliness, if I do declare so myself. It's about time you awoke. He's been here to call upon you each day since he brought you home – Lord Wayne, that is. Three days in a row he's stood upon our doorstep - "

Gemma flew up in bed. "Three days! I've been asleep for three days?" Grabbing Rebecca's shoulders, she began to hoist herself out of bed. "Why didn't you wake me before? Wayne's message is bound to be important, and here I am, sleeping away, while the princess has forgotten everything and that rotten prince is on the loose..."

Leaving an extremely confused Rebecca behind (not confused enough to mutter about Gemma being on first name terms with the Lord Wayne, nevertheless), Gemma ran (more correctly, stumbled) from her bedchamber, ignoring Rebecca's cries of "Lady Gemma, you left your robe... in nothing but your nightgown... hair in tangles..."

She stumbled through the hallways, down the main banister, and tripped, causing her to fall down the last few steps. She landed in a heap at the foot of the stairs, eliciting a loud curse and giving Wayne, who'd been waiting impatiently in front of the fireplace, half a heart attack. He dropped the battle helmet he'd been examining onto his foot, making him swear in a guardsman's colorful language. Hurrying over to Gemma, he held out a hand, which she took and nearly wrenched out of its socket by pulling herself up with several strong jerks.

Wayne opened his mouth to say something, but it just dangled there loosely. Gemma's skin was so pale that it was nearly translucent, her hair was sticking out at all angles in crude snarls, she was shivering in her nightgown, and she sported dark half-moons beneath her eyes, which blazed in startling contrast to her pale skin. She looked, in one word, sick.

Gemma, who was fully aware of Wayne's shock, just glared at him. "Don't give me that look. If I hadn't been there, he would've zapped you with a lightening bolt, or something. You owe me."

In truth, the mere mention of any kind of magic was enough to make her sick all over again. She wasn't prepared to think about what had come out of her three days ago – it had come without warning, yet told her instinctively what she had to do... it had torn open her hands, but left no blemish... it frightened her and fascinated her at the same time. At that exact point in time, the second feeling was at a minimum, while the first had a stronghold in her chest. She couldn't let Wayne know this, however, and so she just continued shooting him angry looks, covering her fear with a façade of sarcasm and snappiness.

"I would be laughing at your fall back there and at your face right now if the situation weren't so serious, Gemma", Wayne told her. Checking the drafty hall for servants, he pulled her over to a couch in the corner. "I've tried hinting to the princess about what happened, but she remembers nothing. The time she spent with Conrad is just... gone from her memory; nonexistent." He paused, green eyes turning a shade darker. "And the prince is pompously stalking through the hallways, smirking, and... there's nothing I can say, to anyone."

Gemma brought her hand to her head as another spasm of pain shot through her temple. "But... you come from a respected family. Isn't there anyone who'd hold you to your word?" She couldn't help the trace of shortness in her voice.

Wayne shook his head. "I don't want to risk it." He sighed, scrutinizing her pale face. "I'm seeing what that... _thing _did to you, Gemma – but couldn't you bring Katrina's memory back again, by using it?"

Her face paled, if possible, to an even greater degree. To just talk of her power made her sick – but this! Calling on it again! She knew that she and Conrad had a history in the past, albeit an unknown one, and that he was up to no good. He was power-hungry; he longed for something, and that something perhaps included the princess; perhaps it did not, but she was certain that there was also something else that the Chitin prince desired...

And how she knew all this, she wasn't sure, but for now it made sense to her, and she clung to it... she didn't know anyone else around her with what she'd seen in herself, and there was no one, not even Ingrid and Maddie, whom she trusted enough to confide this in. She couldn't just call on _it _again; she needed guidance! The thing would probably eat her alive if she didn't know how to control it!

_If your father were still alive, he would be able to guide you, _a voice in her mind reflected. _He had something similar, after all...is that why he left you and your family...? _She pushed that last bit aside; she had enough to think about without that thought right now! But, the voice was right – her father _would _have been able to guide her...

She looked up at Wayne, a dim flicker of hope in her eyes. "Do you know of anyone besides your own father who knew mine very well? _Very _well?"

When he looked confused, she hurried to explain: "I can't call on it again by myself, Wayne. It'll... I'm not sure, but it could take me over, liking nothing else."

Wayne glared at her for the first time since they'd met, and it was a glare not unlike her own. "Gemma, Kat is being made into a _puppet _and you're too afraid to use you own... _thing_!", he cried, grabbing her wrist. "You don't understand, he's taking her over and you're just sitting by idly - "

That was the wrong thing to say. Eyes flashing, Gemma wrenched her wrist out of his grasp. "No, _you _don't understand! You weren't in my shoes when that thing flared up through my body and just came out of my hands, and completely took me over! _You _didn't feel as if you were on the verge of being eaten alive by some green _flame_!" Snarling, she stepped away from him. "I _know _that the prince is up to no good! I'm not an idiot! I'm _aware _of the fact that Katrina needs help, but I can't help her now without risking being _dead, _and if I end up dead by trying to help her now, then you'll be on your own!"

Tears of anger and fear were threatening to spill out of her eyes, and she turned away. She didn't want this! It was already making her life miserable!

She nearly experienced a heart attack as she felt a strong arm curl around her shoulders from behind. There was a pause in which she stiffened, barely breathing.

Then, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that... just lost control..." he sounded genuine. "Just, Kat means, well..." he blushed. "Kat means a lot to me, and I've never been so concerned about her." Another pause. "I won't mention it again until we've found someone to 'guide' you, alright?"

His arm was still around her shoulders, and she could smell his skin... wood-smoke mixed with a noble scent that she couldn't name... she felt resentful towards Katrina, who meant so much to Wayne...

_What on earth was she thinking? _Quickly, she stepped away from him, not meeting his eyes. "It's fine", she told him shortly. Then, forcing some of her old sarcasm back into her voice, she asked, "And where do you propose we find these connections that my father had?"

Wayne nodded at the banister. "You're father's study." They dashed up the steps, Wayne in the lead. As he lead her through a maze of corridors, Gemma realized how little she truly knew about her father's house. Finally, they arrived in front of a set of heavy wooden double doors, twice Wayne's height, which was saying something. The doors stood open a crack, which caused Wayne to raise his eyebrows.

"I hope we'll have some privacy in here", he remarked as he fully pushed open the doors – and stopped.

At least two dozen servants were milling about, moving old books, small lamps, shelves, desks, immense stacks of papers, locked cases... everything, around. They looked up in mild surprise at seeing Lord Wayne, who had been a regular visitor of Lord Frederick's, and Gemma, Lord Frederick's daughter, clad in a thin nightgown and looking incredibly ill, together in the threshold. Then, they hurriedly bowed or curtsied, and resumed their work.

"Privacy, my ass", Gemma muttered quietly as she surveyed the room. "Did your father have a study?" she asked in an exasperated tone. She didn't have to say more. Wayne wheeled around, leading them back to the banister. "Get dressed", he ordered, I'll be waiting here. We'll ride to my manor and search the place."

Gemma nodded conspiratorially and stumbled back to her rooms, where an out-of-breath Rebecca intercepted her, demanding that she get back under the covers.

"If it's not too bold to say so, I understand that you've made a fine new conquest with Lord Wayne, milady, but this isn't the time to just go riding off into some sunset! You should be in bed, resting, until your strength returns..."

Gemma could feel her face heating up. "That _is _too bold, Rebecca. Lord Wayne and I are nothing but companions, and he needs to hand something of my father's back to me, and that something just happens to be located at his manor." Rebecca looked only halfway convinced, but prepared Gemma's clothes for her nonetheless.

Twenty minutes later, Gemma descended the stairs in a spring-green gown, meant to bring out her eyes. Rebecca had only pale-colored dresses for her; most court ladies wore them to bring out their milky complexions and dainty figures. Most court ladies, however, were also accustomed to riding sidesaddle in their long, pale, everyday gowns – but not Gemma. She was accustomed to riding, but only in the western fashion, and the long dress only got in her way as she tried to swing one leg over the horse's rump. The fine strands of hair that Rebecca had so neatly combed only got into her eyes, and her cloak hit her in the face continuously as the wind picked up its pace.

Wayne had trouble containing his laughter, but they were in a rush, so eventually he just tossed Gemma up into the saddle and told her to hold on tightly – and so they rode off.

The manor in which Wayne lived was very similar to that of Gemma's, but more compact, with more expensive-looking furniture crammed into its interior and a sickly sweet scent of perfume in practically every room. Gemma wrinkled her nose, sneezing continuously. "What – what's that _stench_?" She gasped out between sneezes.

Wayne just shook his head, rolling his eyes. "My mother's and sister's perfumes", he answered. "They're both very... attracted to those sort of things."

Imitating him without even realizing it, she shook her head too, clamping a hand over her nose. Wayne lead her to a smaller set of double doors than the ones leading to her father's office, fumbled in his pockets for a small key, and opened the door. In here, everything was neat and completely spotless – and there was no smell of perfume, fortunately. Gemma inhaled deeply, relieved.

The inside of the office was disorganized. Papers and books were scattered everywhere, some lamps were on, some off. It was as if someone had left the room very suddenly. Gemma noticed that Wayne's face had tightened. It was obvious that he was setting foot into his fathers office for the first time after his father's death.

In order to distract him, Gemma quickly walked into the center of the room. "Well – I'll begin!" she declared in a falsely bright voice. "Erm..." she grabbed a pile of envelopes, which were lying on the edge of the main desk. She opened each one while Wayne slowly came into the room. She reviewed the letters' contents, and put them back the way that they'd been before. It was all about business, nothing personal. She grabbed a second stack, and began again, Wayne joining her.

"No, just a meeting..."... "Carriage arrangement"... "Shipment from Sicilian"...

_Three hours later..._

"There's absolutely _no _trace here of any personal contact whatsoever", Gemma yelled across the room, tossing the envelopes she'd searched to the ground. Wayne, who was sitting in a window seat flipping through a large stack of further letters, looked up and heaved an exasperated sigh, his dark hair falling into his eyes. "He had to have _some _sort of idea written down somewhere about the personal contacts of your father..." Wayne trailed off, staring down at the next letter in front of him. "Look at this!" he yelled triumphantly.

Gemma nearly tripped over a stool in her relieved rush to get to him. "It's addressed to Lord Frederick", she said with relief. "Finally."

Eagerly they opened the letter.

_My Dear Friend, _began the salutation...

**Hi!**

**No, I'm not dead. Alive, and very, very busy. Yeah, I know, it's not the most original excuse, just like this chapter is not the most exciting chapter. In the next chapter, however, we FINALLY meet Sebastian! Lol, the moment many people have been waiting for. This chapter had to be posted, because it's necessary to the plot, okies? And yes, I'll have my next chapter up MUCH sooner than last time, I promise. If possible, even this weekend.**

**Now, R&R, por favor?**

**Please?**

**#places cherry on top#**


	9. Chapter Eight: Lucinda's Tale, Part I

Chapter Eight

_My Dear Friend, _began the salutation,

Today I have no time to pen of my doings, nor of my goals – save one: to assist you in returning to the real world, for while you are in the real world in body, you are clearly elsewhere in mind. You lock yourself inside your study as the days drift past, neither eating nor sleeping. You receive no visitors – the days on which I have called upon you have left me unsatisfied, for each time your servants expressed that you were unable to see anyone.

_I am concerned for you, Frederick, for this is unlike you – it is clear that some foreign thing that I know nothing of plagues your mind. Of course, I do not ask that you confide in me – just that you inform me at once if there is anything I can do to assist you, no matter what the risk may be; I know that you, too, would go to great lengths for my purposes._

_Several days ago, while I was sitting in your hall during yet another attempt to see you, I happened to overhear I conversation between two of your most trusted servants – the ones whom clean your study, I believe. They spoke of your unhealthy condition, and mentioned your correspondence with a certain 'Raleigh of Dunbar', saying that his letters had been arriving at your manor more and more frequently by strange means. Is he your concern? Your servants seemed greatly concerned when they spoke of him._

_Please, send a response to this letter – tell me what I must do to be of assistance._

_Best regards,_

_--Jon_

Conrad of Chitin paced his father's chamber; occasionally shooting dark glances at the window revealing the evening's ugly weather. His father lounged in an armchair, watching his only son.

"It's simple", his father explained. "You eliminate the ones in your way – and anyone who is capable of stepping in your way. I don't understand you – you've never hesitated at acting cruelly to others before now."

Conrad shot another vicious glare in the window's direction. He hadn't told his father about the pretty girl with the uncanny eyes and her power, nor of the boy who's eyes resembled hers. He didn't want his father thinking him disturbed, and he knew that he wouldn't be able to speak of the incident without sounding so – not only had he never met anyone with an aura of power equal to his own, if not greater – but the girl stirred a memory within him of a green eyed man that had once come close to defeating him, of one whom had always defied him and his followers by steadfastly protecting the kingdom's royals, which included Katrina, and played the role of one of the key guardians of the article that Conrad desired...

Flashback... 

The largest ballroom of the castle, barely ever used, had been splendidly decorated with midwinter decorations and numerous, bright banners carrying the Kyrrian crest. The windows, three times as tall as an average man's height and sparkling from their cleansing earlier that same morning, looked out upon the castle gardens blanketed in fresh snow, with new, delicate flakes still dancing down from the midnight-colored sky in graceful patterns.

Elegantly clad men and women, young and old, stood hushed at the foot of the ballroom's grand banister, it's railings twisted with garlands of holly. All eyes rested profoundly on four individuals descending the banister:

King Charmont, dressed handsomely in a jacket of midnight blue trimmed with gold, stepped slowly down the banister, giving the impression of making a connection with each man and women inside the room. A joyful smile played about his handsome, young face, and a crown of pure gold rested upon his head – a special sight, for he barely ever wore it. At his side he wore his sword inside its finest scabbard, trimmed with gold and studded with gems in diverse blues – a family heirloom, meant only for special occasions.

On the King's right hand was a lad no older than three, dressed in a miniature, spotless white doublet and a jacket that matched his father's. He had his father's curls, with fell into his gleeful green eyes (his mother's), albeit his hair sported a few light streaks that his father's did not. His small dagger, meant only for formality, hung at his side – it had been his father's when he was a boy.

The King's left arm was entwined with that of his wife and Queen, Eleanor, or Ella, as she liked to be called. Her raven-colored hair was tied back from her shining face in an elegant knot, and a delicate tiara of silver, studded with pearls, rested upon her head. She was clad in a creamy, floor length gown with hues of pale blue (customary in the royal family for women that had given birth just days before), which sported several lace flounces. Its bodice was intricately beaded with tiny blue stones.

In Ella's left arm rested her newborn, Katrina, wrapped in a white silk shawl and outfitted in a tiny, white wool dress with matching slippers. Her eyes were still blue, and they contrasted strongly with her tufts of dark hair.

Char opened his mouth as the royal family reached the foot of the grand staircase. "Noble guests! First, I wish you all a merry midwinter." This statement was greeted with happy chuckles and scattered applause from the crowd. "I would like to welcome you all to two celebrations of great importance that are to take place tonight: The yearly, celebratory feast and ball of midwinter – and the birth of a new member to our family."

The applause filled the room, reverberating off the walls and the ceiling. Char turned to Ella. "Care to do the honors?" he asked her, grinning broadly.

"With pleasure", she murmured, her cheeks flushed. Stepping forward, Ella tilted Katrina so that the crowd had a clear view of her. "It is with pleasure", she addressed the crowd in her throaty voice, "that we introduce you to our new daughter: Katrina Eleanor Of Kyrria!"

The men and woman burst into applause, and then surged forward to offer their congratulations and to get a closer look at the child.

After half an hour, the number of people surrounding the royal family had not decreased, and Ella, still exhausted from birth, desperately needed a break. Glancing over at her three-year-old son, Sebastian, and catching sight of his bored face (all the attention was on his baby sister), she chose to take her son with her for a short stroll in the gardens. Char quickly understood, and ordered the orchestra to strike up a lively gavotte: the start of the celebration.

Handing Katrina to Char and taking Sebastian by the hand, Ella slipped through a back door, fetched her fur-lined cloak and gloves, and slipped back outside into the gardens, which were constantly patrolled by guards, of course. They bowed to her and the young prince as the two made their way through the snow-covered lanes, and Sebastian, recognizing a few of the guards, would point and give a glad shout, imitating his father's salute and causing a few of the guards to crack a smile.

He attempted to catch the snowflakes that were still drifting from the sky, indulged by his mother's impressed commentary and her occasional, glad laugh. Just as Ella was about to sink down onto a nearby bench, she heard the call of her name.

Sighing, she scooped up Sebastian once more and turned around, expecting to find another noblewoman, filled with glee over the birth of Ella's new child. Forcing a bright smile onto her face, she turned around – only to find an old woman rushing towards her, stooped with age, but with a glad smile consuming her face.

Lucinda!

She hadn't seen the fairy in nearly a year, and was glad to see her again – for after all, it had been Lucinda whom had come up with the magic in order to allow Ella to attend the three balls several years ago, and thus be reunited with Char. Still, having suffered from Lucinda's curse for sixteen years left Ella a bit worried about Lucinda's reaction once she saw Ella's child, which, of course, she would want to see.

As Ella hugged the old woman and accepted her congratulations, Sebastian turned away, pouting, for Ella had told him of her curse – and its giver. Although he'd also been told of Lucinda's assistance in getting his mother and his father together, he was still resentful towards the fairy for having cast a curse upon his mother that had made her suffer so.

Ella drew back from embracing the fairy, bearing a smile tinged with slight concern. "What brings you here, if I may ask?" she questioned curiously.

Lucinda smiled. "Have you not been wondering why I haven't shown myself for nine months, Ella dear?" she asked, a slightly secretive look upon her face.

When Ella nodded, she continued. "You do remember that one night, years ago – the night on which you wrote that false letter to Char in order to ward off his proposal."

Ella raised her eyebrows in confusion as to the connection between Lucinda's ninth month disappearance and her current trip back down memory lane.

Lucinda continued, "You remember how you cried, later, in Mandy's bed chamber, and how vexed Mandy was with me – how she called me to her aid as you'd done several months before. You remember how I appeared, old and gray instead of young and beautiful."

Ella's confusion level rose.

"You remember how shocked I was – after all, I'd just spent time as a squirrel and as an obedient child, and I'd finally realized how horrible my "gifts" were for its recipients. I said that I wished I could take all of my gifts back."

Here Lucinda paused, her mind clearly back at that past scenario.

"You stepped forth from behind the curtain... and said, "Yes, please do take them back." I told you that I'd renounced big magic – forever."

Sebastian was ardently listening to Lucinda now, drawn to the story by the emotion in her voice. He ignored the soft snowflakes that continued to fall around him.

"You begged me to, you wept, and I wept with you, for you were to lose the man you loved because of _me_! Ah, how clearly I remember."

"When you broke your curse, I was ecstatic to know that my gift was no longer keeping you from what you most wanted. A weight was lifted off my shoulders."

Here Lucinda smiled, and Sebastian caught a faint whiff of lilacs in the air.

"However, a little less than a year ago, a thought hit me that should've hit me years before. I didn't understand how I couldn't have thought of it before – how the sadness of it couldn't have affected me before then."

Ella was leaning forward slightly, waiting with worry and anticipation to hear what the fairy would say next.

"What of all the others that I'd cursed? They hadn't broken their curses – they were still being held back because of some "gift" or other that I'd bestowed upon them at their births. And there was nothing that I could do – I'd renounced big magic."

Ella sat down hard on the snow-covered bench behind her, and Sebastian – quite smart for his three years – widened his green eyes.

"How right you are", Ella conceded, her voice suddenly exhausted and very quiet. "How right..."

"I brought my case before the council of my people", Lucida continued in a hushed tone, darting a few well-placed glances around the gardens in order to check whether anyone was listening.

"We have reached a solution that is linked back to the birth of our people – a tale that we do not share with non-faeries, even if they are Friends. But, this time, the council is making an exception, and I have been permitted to tell you."

Ella had completely forgotten about Sebastian, who was listening to Lucinda avidly.

Ella, also engrossed in what Lucinda was saying, sat down on the snow-covered bench behind her without truly realizing it. Lucinda joined her.

"Many hundreds of years ago, an Ayorthian explorer with a nearly unbelievable sense for the feelings of the earth discovered Kyrria because a wild storm blew his ship off course while he was sailing along the Ayorthian coast as research for a new map he hoped to construct."

Even though Ella knew this, she didn't interrupt.

"His ship, though one of the sturdiest, was torn apart by the storm, and the explorer, Perrin was his name, hit his head upon a rock. Nearly unconscious and unable to think clearly, he slipped beneath the waves, into a world of eerie calm and quiet, where large fish eyed him in graceful understanding, and gigantic, beautiful sea plants swished back and forth in time to the water.

"No one had ever heard of the mermen and mermaids – no one knew that they existed, up to that day. Their kingdoms beneath the sea were hidden within huge underwater labyrinths only known to them. Few dared to venture outside these labyrinths, except the guardsmen and women, and even they did not often venture as close to shore as the area in which Perrin was sinking.

"Before I continue, I must explain that there were two different kinds of sea people. There were those who lived in areas populated with the flying fish – fish gifted with wings and thus of amazing speed. These sea people sometimes procreated with the flying fish, and produced children with both a tail and wings, and magic to do with the water as well as the sky. They were called the Kailani.

"Then, there were those who didn't believe in mixing with the flying fish – they believed in keeping their magic of the water pure, and were called the Marinel. The two kinds of sea people, different in their beliefs, were generally peaceful, but didn't mix with one another (A/N: meaning that they resided in separate kingdoms).

"Now, back to the original story. There was a particular Kailani maiden – a child who was the product of a Kailani and a flying fish – who was extremely curious about the upper world, and loved to venture farther out than the rest of her people. Her name was Nerissa. On that day, she was exploring the area in which Perrin was drowning, and she glimpsed him. She was fascinated by humans, and swam closer. When she saw his handsome face, her heart stirred with emotion, and she was tempted to save his life. She had heard dark stories of the brutal deeds humans had committed, and was thus hesitant, but when she saw that he was unconscious, she couldn't resist.

"She swam to him, and brought him to the surface quickly with the speed that her wings provided her with. She lay him down on the shore and pounded her palms onto his back, making him cough up the water that he had swallowed. Once he was breathing evenly again, she lay him down on the sand and watched him in his peaceful sleep.

"She didn't notice that he was coming to, and when he touched her hand and whispered, 'thank-you', she was startled and leapt back into the water so quickly that Perrin thought her a beautiful vision. (A/N: yes, I know that this sounds like the little mermaid. I'm sort of using that story in order to create this one, a little bit.)

"Nerissa realized, after watching him from beneath the water for about two days, that he had nothing to sustain him, and that he was on his own. She began to leave nourishment on the shore while Perrin slept. The explorer began to wonder whether the vision that he had had after nearly drowning was reality – and whether it was she, the winged and tailed creature, whom was sustaining his life.

"In the evenings, he began spending hours sitting by his fire, staring out into the ocean, thinking of her: the thick black locks, curling elegantly over her translucent skin and into her luminous, oceanic colored eyes. He was unable to forget the fragile-looking wings, nearly transparent, with a likeness to a glassy silk tinged with a hue of sea green.

"Perrin began speaking to her – it was unbeknownst to him that Nerissa was listening to his every word beneath the waves – and he told her how he planned to build his own boat out of driftwood, and how he would sail back to his homeland, Ayortha, where he drew maps for royal usage. He told her how he would map his voyage home using the locations of the constellations, and how he would return his new map to his King and Queen, and share with them his discovery of a new country.

"He did not fail to mention how he wished to see her once more – how he wished that she could accompany him back to his homeland.

"The more Nerissa listened to him, the more she wished to do just so. One night, when his boat was nearly complete, she couldn't hold back any longer – she made herself known to him. The explorer was delighted, but kept his distance in respect of the mermaid's shyness.

"She began to tell him tales of her own land beneath the sea in return for his tales of Ayortha. They grew close, very close, and in the end, Perrin confessed that he wished to be her, wherever that might be.

"Nerissa confessed the same feelings – but she doubted that he would be accepted among her people. And, she had always wanted to walk upon steady land...

"So she visited a powerful sorceress beneath the ocean. She explained her cause to the sorceress, and begged her for help. Nerissa promised to give the sorceress whatever she desired in return, be it not her life or Perrin's.

"The sorceress demanded a sacrifice of painlessness from Nerissa: If Nerissa wished to be with Perrin, and walk on earthly soil with two human legs, her hands would feel burning pain whenever they touched anything with the exception of Perrin himself – albeit they would not be blemished. Thus, Nerissa was given the magic of painful fire.

"Nerissa accepted the bargain. Swimming back ashore, she explained the bargain to Perrin before drinking the potion – she wished to explain it to him while she still had a voice. She promised that she would learn to read and write, so that she would be able to communicate with him through parchment and educate herself on the world that she did not yet know by book.

"She swore to him that she was certain of her wish to drink the potion, and after much discussion, Perrin promised her that he would touch whatever he could for her to spare her pain. He promised her that he would teach her the art of reading and writing. Nerissa rejoiced once he gave her his consent to drinking the potion, and she did so.

"At the start, the pain at touching anything was excruciating, but Nerissa did it more and more often in order to grow accustomed to it. The joy of having legs and being with Perrin was enough to make up for the loss of her voice.

"Perrin and Nerissa made their way back to Ayortha, where the already-famous explorer was welcomed with much joy – after all, people had thought him dead for months. Perrin's friends and the royal family were enchanted by Nerissa and her quick ability to learn, not to mention the charm of her character that she exhibited on paper once she grew masterful of the skill.

"Perrin and Nerissa made the route to the country across the sea known to the Ayorthian ship captains, who brought those that wished to settle on the beautiful land over the sea. The royal family, too, wished to see the new land, and the King and Queen saw how moved Perrin and Nerissa were at it's grassy plains, adventurous forests, and cooler climate – and thus, they made Perrin the new ruler his new country, and Nerissa his Queen.

"They named the country Kyrria, and under Perrin's courageous, strong, earthly rule and that of his wise, beautiful Queen, Kyrria was begun and prospered.

"Perrin and Nerissa had many children – and each child was gifted with wings, magic of the sky, the earth, the water and the fire. The people began to call them the Faeries – meaning 'elementally gifted'.

"So it was thus, Ella, that the Faeries came to be.

**A/N: You are probably wondering how the story of how the faeries came to be will connect with the rest of the plot. I thought that it was too long and maybe a tad too much to digest to put into one chapter, so it'll be continued in the next one. Also, in this chapter we met Sebastian as a small boy, and in the next one, which I really, really plan to have up this week (I'm serious! ;;;), we'll meet him how he is in the present, w/ Gemma and Wayne and Katrina, etc. There's also bound to be more romance soon ;-), so hang in there!**

**Please, please, please review?**

**Much love,**

**--Lioness-Elf**


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